Guest Post and Spotlight of Sunny Gale: A Novel by Jamie Lisa Forbes (#iReadBookTours)

 

 

 

I want. to Welcome Jamie Lisa Forbes to Books R Us. Jamie is the author of Sunny Gale: A Novel. She is touring the Blogosphere with I Read Book Tours. The author has provided a guest post for my readers. Let me tell you about the Novel and the author. Thanks for stopping by

 

SUNNY GALE: A NOVEL by Jamie Lisa Forbes

Category:  Adult Fiction 18+, 268 pages

 

 Book Description:

It's 1895 and fourteen year old Hannah Brandt is struggling with the hard life on a new Nebraska homestead. When her imagination is captured by a wild filly she becomes obsessed with horses, which opens the door to her destiny. Just four years later she enters the first Cheyenne Frontier Day rodeo where she wins the relay race and her fate is sealed. She gives herself a new name, Sunny Gale, and pursues a rodeo career, much to the disgust of her young husband and her very proper mother. Sunny defies convention with every move as the drive to compete takes over her life, leaving everything else behind, including husbands and children. It is a rough life she has chosen, but she craves the glory of the spotlight and refuses to bow to the expectations for a woman in her time.

​Award winning author Jamie Lisa Forbes has once again brought us complex characters in a story based on real women and the early days when rodeo was wide open for them to become stars. It is a story of the social mores of the times and of a woman determined to defy them no matter how high the personal cost or where that choice might take her.

 

Content Rating: PG-13 +M: There is no profane language. There are some sexual scenes, non explicit,  There is one instance of sexual abuse that is more recollected than described and there are two scenes where animals hare harmed intentionally.

 

GUEST POST:

 

THE SWEDE CABIN

The road that wound out of our Little Laramie River Valley was called “The Swede Cabin.” For years during my childhood, I thought the adults were saying “Sweet Cabin” and I wondered, looking over the prairie, where the sweets were.

“Swede, Jamie,” my father said. “Not sweet.”

“There’s no Swedes here, either. And where’s the cabin?”

“There used to be a Swedish guy here. He’s gone and so is the cabin.”

No, there was no trace of a cabin there. The land swept up and away to the top of a bluff and on trips to Laramie, I used to glance back for a last glimpse at the valley and the Snowy Range beyond. “The Swede Cabin” meant the last stop between the valley and the rest of the world.

In September 1973, I was waiting out the fall days at the ranch before I was due to begin at the University of Denver. One morning, my parents asked me to take my brother to school. He was starting high school in Laramie.

There had been heavy rain the night before which explained why I wasn’t back in the hayfields that morning. Coming down over the bluff on my return trip, I hit the mud too fast and slid off the road. I turned off the car and there was silence.

There were no cell phones in those days, no way to contact anyone. But I wasn’t anxious. I knew that my father would come looking for me. In whatever spot I had gotten myself into, I always knew Dad would be along. There might be less than positive consequences when he arrived, but at the heart of the matter, it always was reassuring to he was on his way.

While I waited and the engine ticked off, the clouds began to break. Sun streaked the green meadows and prairie below. The haystacks were piled high with the summer’s hay. The mountaintops appeared with the season’s first dusting of snow. The cattle would trail down the mountains soon. The aspen would turn. Time never stopped here. Halted, however inadvertently, I now had the luxury of lingering over this view. “This is not goodbye. My absence will be just a pause, an interruption. All of this will still be here when I come back.”

And there sure enough five miles away, I saw our green ranch truck traveling south on Forbes Lane, swinging east on McGill Lane, crossing the cattle guard and starting up the Swede Cabin.

 

Meet the Author:

Jamie Lisa Forbes was raised on a ranch in the Little Laramie Valley near Laramie, Wyoming. She attended the University of Colorado where she obtained degrees in English and philosophy. After fourteen months living in Israel, she returned to her family’s ranch where she lived for another fifteen years.

In 1994, she moved to Greensboro, North Carolina. In 2001, she graduated from the University of North Carolina School of Law and began her North Carolina law practice.

Forbes’ first novel, Unbroken, won the WILLA Literary Award for Contemporary Fiction in 2011. Her collection of short stories, The Widow Smalls and Other Stories, won the High Plains Book Awards for a short story collection in 2015.

Forbes’ novel of rural North Carolina in the segregation era, entitled Eden, was published in 2020. Her historical novel about women bronc riders in the early days of rodeo, entitled Sunny Gale, was published in May 2024 by Pronghorn Press.

Ms. Forbes continues to live—and write—in North Carolina.

Connect with the author: 

 

  website  ~ facebook ~ pinterest ~ X ~  goodreads 

 

BUY THE BOOK:
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Bookshop.org ~Indigo
​add to goodreads

 

Review of Burn This Night by Alex Kenna (#mystery, #contests- Win an Amazon Gift Card)

 I would like to welcome Alex Kenna, Alex is the author of The Kate Myles Detective Series. She is touring the blogosphere with Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours with Book #2 "Burn This Night." Thanks for stopping by.

 

Told in alternating timelines, this gripping mystery about a PI and her quest for answers is full of twists and turns, perfect for fans of Allison Brennan and Gytha Lodge.

Struggling private investigator Kate Myles is shattered to learn her late father isn’t her biological dad. She’s still reeling when she discovers that an unknown distant relative is the prime suspect in a decades-old murder investigation. Trying to convince her to take on the case for free, an old colleague recommends her as an investigator for a recent arson murder in the same small town.

After giving up on a failed acting career, Abby Coburn is starting over as a promising social work student. With her life on the right track, she’s determined to help her brother, Jacob, whose meth addiction triggered a psychotic break and descent into crime. But when Abby dies in a fire that kills two other people and destroys part of the town, the police immediately suspect Jacob.

As the Coburn family grapples with the tragedy, Kate begins unraveling the cold case but finds herself caught in the middle of an emotional minefield. Pretty soon, she discovers that this town is full of dark secrets, and as she comes closer and closer to figuring out the truth, Kate must solve both murders before she becomes the next victim.

Read an excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Eight Months Ago—Grace

My eyes shot open when I heard the yelping. Barney was going to wake the baby. I dove toward the old dog, grabbed his snout, and held it closed with both hands. “Shh,” I pleaded.

I lowered one hand and rubbed Barney’s back, trying to calm him. He let out a whine, and like clockwork, Liam started to cry. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and braced myself for another late-night nursing session. My body felt heavy with milk and stress and exhaustion.

Carefully, I scooped up the howling baby, carried him over to the rocking chair, and lifted my T shirt to feed him. Liam quieted down and nestled against me. I sniffed his hair and stroked his cheek as we rocked back and forth. Part of me wanted to stay like this all night. But a bigger part of me longed to be under the covers, passed out in a warm oblivion.

I heard the shower turn on down the hall. Ted must be back from serving his warrant. A few months ago, he’d gotten smart with a lieutenant, who then started feeding him late-night assignments. These frequent absences were brutal now that I was back from maternity leave and needed sleep to function at work.

Barney whined again and clawed at the bedroom door. Clutching Liam, I rose to let the dog out of the room.

I looked down at the baby, who was asleep and making little catlike snores. With slow, deliberate steps, I made my way toward the crib and lowered him until his back rested against the fabric. But the change in angle caused his eyes to open and his lungs to inflate. Then came the cry—and Barney ran back to the bedroom, joining Liam in a horrible wailing duet. I reached out toward the dog and felt wet fur. Damn it—Barney must have peed in the house. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. What I wouldn’t give for one night’s sleep.

The door opened and Ted walked in with a towel around his waist. “I need help,” I snapped.

“What?” asked Ted, surprised by my tone.

My eyes were closed, and I was crying. But Ted couldn’t see that in the dark. He just sensed the anger in my voice. I knew it wasn’t his fault that the baby wouldn’t sleep, that the dog couldn’t hold it, and that his boss was a jerk. But I’d reached my limit, and Ted was the only living being in earshot who understood human language.

“Barney peed in the house. Take Liam so I can let the dog out before he does it again. Just try to get him back to sleep.” I placed the screaming, wriggling infant in Ted’s arms before either of them could protest.

Flipping on the hall light, I made my way to the kitchen. Barney scampered ahead of me, spinning in circles. I threw on Ted’s faded hoodie. It reeked of old sweat, but I was too tired to care. I hooked Barney’s leash to his collar, and bracing myself for the cold, I unlocked the back door and stepped outside.

The Santa Anas blew hard, and I shivered as cold air soaked through the hoodie’s weave. I could hear the Jeffrey pines rustle in the wind. Thrusting my hands into the central pocket, I rubbed them together for warmth.

A smoky odor hung in the air—maybe the residue of a neighbor’s barbecue dinner. But the wind should have blown away the scent by now.

Barney tugged at his leash. I let him drag me toward the street. Now that we were outside, he wouldn’t be satisfied without a walk, and it might clear my head as well.

The sky was lighter than I’d expected. Idlewood doesn’t have streetlights. It’s a conscious decision to preserve the log-cabins-in-the-woods feel of the place. Darkness adds to the storybook charm, and it can be hard to find your way on moonless nights. But the sky had an orange-gray glow that reminded me of LA smog. Maybe it was later than I thought, almost morning.

Barney tugged on his leash, half-dragging me up the road toward the intersection. He seemed agitated, and I wondered what had gotten into him. As we passed the Hernandez’s place, our footsteps activated the motion sensor, and the automatic light above their garage snapped on with an electric hum.

I noticed something floating in the air. Tiny particles, like gray snow or dryer lint. The flecks danced in the air, and Barney snapped at one as it fluttered toward his jaws. The smell of smoke was growing stronger.

Oh my god.

Clutching Barney’s leash, I ran the rest of the way to the cross street, which cut straight to the mountain. High in the pines, I saw an orange glow—luminous against the dark sky. My vision tunneled, and all I could see was the fire on the hillside. The light was near Abby’s cabin. But I couldn’t tell how near.

I grabbed my phone and scanned my recent calls, but it had been weeks since I’d spoken to my sister, and her name didn’t pop up. I pulled up my contact list and clicked on her name. After four rings, a cheerful recording prompted me to leave a message. Maybe she’s already fled. No, Abby would’ve called if she were awake. She might hate me, but she’d warn me about a wildfire.

I called back, praying that her cell wasn’t on silent. Come on Abby, answer the phone. When I heard the prerecorded message again, I started to panic. I left a voicemail: “Abby, it’s Grace. There’s a fire by your cabin—you need to leave now!”

The orange glow was getting bigger as the Santa Anas blew the flames toward Idlewood. It was how I’d always imagined an erupting volcano would look, with lava flowing down its sides. I called Abby a third time, cursing under my breath. Across the street, a door opened, and an old man stepped outside, holding a little white dog. “There’s a fire!” he shouted.

I looked at him and then back at the mountain, ringing phone pressed against my ear. Dammit, Abby, pick up! “My son works at the fire station,” said the man. “They’re about to put out an alert. We have to evacuate. The whole town could burn.”

“My sister’s cabin is on the hillside, and she’s not answering,” I shouted. “Can you call your son and tell him someone’s up there?”

I heard a chime and looked down at my phone. It was a text from the fire department, ordering us to leave Idlewood. But my feet stayed planted. My sister was on that mountain, with nothing but a narrow dirt road leading down to safety. If the fire overtook the path, she’d be trapped.

“Jeffrey, it’s Pop,” I heard the old man say. “There’s a lady here whose sister has a cabin near the fire.”

Hearing those words unleashed a fresh wave of panic. Abby’s cheerful answering machine message sounded for a fifth time in my ear. “Abby, get out of there!” I screamed into the phone.

“We have to go,” said the neighbor. “This thing could spread faster than they can contain it.”

My phone chimed and I looked down at the screen, hoping to see Abby’s name, but it was a voicemail from Ted. Before I could call him back, a text flashed across my screen: FIRE—COME HOME NOW

I looked back and forth from my screen to the mountain. My sister was up there. But my husband and son were at the house. I couldn’t wait any longer. I tugged at Barney’s leash and ran home.

***

Excerpt from Burn This Night by Alex Kenna. Copyright 2024 by Alex Kenna. Reproduced with permission from Alex Kenna. All rights reserved.

 

 My Thoughts:

"Burn This Night" is a fast-paced and engaging detective novel. The main character, Kate, struggles with a complicated past that includes a failed marriage, opioid addiction, and alcohol abuse. Kate became a Private Detective, set out to solve a cold case, and discovered information about her past and family. I especially liked how the author wrote the story with alternating narrators and timelines from the past. Kenna used this technique to introduce us to Abby and Jacob and their personalities and motivations. Some twists and turns kept me engaged, and every time I thought I knew who the killer was, I was wrong. 

Kate's problems were introduced in the author's debut novel, "What Meets the Eye," but I read this novel as a stand-alone. I had no trouble following the progression of this story and the characters. I look forward to reading the author's next novel.

Author Bio:

Alex Kenna is a mystery writer, prosecutor, and amateur painter. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, son, and giant schnauzer. Alex's first novel, WHAT MEETS THE EYE, was a 2023 Shamus Award Finalist for best first P.I. novel. Her second novel, BURN THIS NIGHT, is coming November 12, 2024.

Catch Up With Alex Kenna:
www.AlexKenna.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @akenna
Instagram - @alexkennabooks
Twitter/X - @AlexKenna9
Facebook

 

 Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

Click Here to Enter Contest

 

 

 

 

Book Blitz of The Elf Against The Wall by Alina Jacobs(#Contests- Win a copy of the Book)

Elf Against the Wall
Alina Jacobs
(The Wynter Brothers, #2)
Publication date: November 12th 2024
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

When you kiss your perfect boyfriend under the mistletoe…only for your cousin to scream to the family that you stole her man, Christmas is OVER.

In my defense, I didn’t know my boss—yup, boss. Buckle up because this is messy—was my cousin’s newly minted and totally lying fiancé. I thought he was the Nutcracker Prince come to finally show my family that I, too, was worthy of putting the star atop the Christmas tree.

I was so wrong.
Now my entire family thinks I’m a ho ho ho.
I’m at the top of the naughty list, not in a fun Elf on the Shelf way, but rather in a snide-comments-at-brunch and sitting-at-the-kids’-table kinda way.

I have to clear my name, or Christmas is ruined. Again.
What better way than to blackmail my family’s number one sworn enemy?
Anderson Wynter is this desperate elf’s last hope. Six-foot-five, ethically challenged, with washboard abs and a death wish, Anderson is the perfect weapon to expose my ex and help me get back in my family’s good graces.
That is, until the weapon massively backfires… and no, not like that.

Anderson goes full Nightmare Before Christmas and shows up at my family’s annual holiday party in nothing but tattoos and a motorcycle helmet and tells everyone we’re dating.
Yep, that kicks me off the naughty list and sends me straight to the Grinch’s garbage dump.

Now I’m chained to a motorcycle-riding bad elf with terrible morals and an even worse attitude—one who sticks his hand down my shirt in the middle of my parents ’posh country club and tells me to ride him like I do his bike.
When I slap him, he just smirks and asks if I fluff my marshmallows while fantasizing about betraying my family with him.
As if.

No way am I sleeping with the man my entire family hates.
Because that won’t just ruin Christmas.
It’ll ruin the rest of my life.

Naughty elves of Christmas checking in! We’re drunk caroling, eating cookies at midnight, surviving family drama, and drooling over hot, unattainable men who are oh so wrong for us. This standalone holiday romantic comedy has all the Christmas cheer you can fit under the tree and a happily ever after guaranteed!

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

There was a man—a huge man!—in my father’s study, all in heavy black motorcycle gear, a helmet hiding his face.

Snowball had her needle-sharp teeth latched onto the robber’s pant leg, and he was batting at her roughly, trying to knock her off.

“Don’t you hurt my dog!” I screamed, picking up a priceless wood statue my parents had brought back from their anniversary trip to Japan and racing after the attacker.

He grunted in surprise but raised his arm too late to block the statue from crashing into his motorcycle helmet, shattering the tinted visor.

Eyes like a raging winter storm glared back at me through the broken glass.

I hefted the statue again, and it connected with one of his massive arms.

The hit didn’t even knock him off-balance.

“Oh shit,” I whimpered as he took a step toward me.

The huge arm came up, knocking the statue out of my hands to split on the floor.

I spun to escape but tripped on the corner of the rug and crashed to the floor, yelling unintelligibly as he pounced on me, pinning me on my back. His huge gloved hand covered my mouth and nose so I couldn’t scream. I could barely breathe.

“Shut up,” the deep voice ordered, slightly muffled by the broken motorcycle helmet.

I struggled under the massive male body that had me trapped on the floor, clawing ineffectively at him.

“What the hell?” he growled. “Fuck, I need to do something with you.”

Was he going to hurt me? Or take me with him to be—Gulp—disposed of somewhere else?

Don’t let yourself be taken to a second location!

But I couldn’t budge all the muscle and sinew holding me down.

“Motherfuck—” he roared, snatching his gloved hand back from my mouth as Snowball bit him, her sharp teeth sinking through the gloves into his thumb.

Sucking in shuddering breaths, I pummeled the man’s helmet as he shook his hand, Snowball not letting go as he flapped her around.

Scraping my nails on his neck, I managed to drag his helmet off his head and hoisted it, banging it on his face and shoulders as he cursed, finally shaking the dog and the glove free.

His tattooed hand made a fist and punched the helmet out of my grasp. His knee pinned my hip to the floor. As he raised himself slightly, his face was lit up by passing headlights.

“Oh my god,” I whimpered, eyes bugging out of my head as I took in his chiseled face, strong jaw, black hair, wintery gray eyes, and scars on his cheek and across one eye.

“You’re the… the… the…”

“The… the… the…” he mocked as he catalogued my dawning recognition.

Author Bio:

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…

Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!

http://alinajacobs.com/mailinglist.html

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Bookbub / X

GIVEAWAY!
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Book Blitz of Here Lyeth by Johanna Frank(#contests- Win an Amazon Gift Card and a Copy of the Book)

Here Lyeth
Johanna Frank
(A Lifeline Fantasy Novel)
Publication date: November 1st 2024
Genres: Fantasy, Supernatural

A small-scale supernatural fantasy on big, real-life values. A story of rewiring unworthiness and searching for a place to belong. Pre-order your copy today for an extraordinary, heartwarming read that is sure to unearth you. Release date, November 1, 2024.

Answers are buried beneath a grave marker. Only it happens to be her own.

Something was missing. It was easy for Lexxie to bury that niggling sense, she had all the love and protection a young woman needed. But when the man she thought to be her father spilled a fever-pitched confession—that she’d been taken from her real family as an infant—her content and isolated life ended.

STIRRING… EXTRAORDINARY… UPLIFTING…

Angry and heartbroken, Lexxie left the people she loved on a mere hint—her true father lived in Vereiteln Dorf, two villages over. Once there, she’s drawn to an unconsecrated graveyard. Since answers don’t come easy from the locals, she’s forced to make many assumptions and patch puzzling pieces together. But the more she does, the more her presence in this superstitious village becomes a threat, and the more she gives credence to a voice coming from a pit of ashes. The perils of a noose amid a 1688 witch hunt lay heavy on her shoulders.

Years earlier, in the same village, young Meginhardt succumbs to a vicious attack. Ethereal beings take him on a time-traveling journey to shake away the lad’s deeply rooted struggles of unworthiness.

But when Meginhardt learns that some woman named Lexxie is the chosen one to carry forward his father’s line of descendants, he throws away all he’s been shown. Fits of jealousy ensue—a dream shattered. It should have been him. He becomes frantic to ensure the demise of this undeserving woman. In apparitional form, he delivers Lexxie a message, face to face.

Her future lyeth in his words.

-The standalone background story to the Prologue in The Gatekeeper’s Descendants
-Book length approximately 90,000 words
-Recommended for Young Adults (14+) and up
-An edifying story involving feelings of unworthiness and a need to belong
-A small-scale fantasy representing the outskirts of heaven

More from the author:

The Gatekeeper’s Descendants, a standalone family drama involving bullying and grief

Jophiel’s Secret, a standalone adventure involving unforgiveness and grief

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Anger tucked aside, she scurried up without bothering to read the inscriptions on the risers. Needing the strength of both arms, she pulled the door open wide. The haunting drawn-out creak confirmed a renewal of focus on her single priority. Find my lineage, my true father. Then new life is certain to follow.

An entrance hall revealed itself, though dark with looming shadows. Unable to avoid inhaling the displeasing odor, a mixture of lingering day-old incense and strong lye soap, her throat did a gaggle. Nothing like the sweet-pine pews inside her white-stucco church.

Attempting to step quiet-like, she still clicked her shoes against the marble floor, her feet inside all that lavish commenced to swell and pine for attention. Huh, stomping through town in modish spikes, ’tis not wise.

A figure across the room sat up on its knees and twisted a neck to inspect the visitor. Even in the darkness, the woman appeared maturely aged.

Unfolding with a painful slowness, the woman stood and rubbed her hands into her apron. With such a crippling figure, she couldn’t have had an easy go at life. Her head, a weighty slump, her neck, cranked to one side. Had she eaten in a while? So thin. And dressed in all black. Scrubbing a floor that already shone—preparing for a wedding or cleaning after the ceremony of a disposed corpse perhaps?

“State yer business,” the woman gnarled.

The plucky tone surprised. “Guten morgen, I’m, ah, here to examine the registers for births and deaths—if I may.” Politeness best protect her from being turned away. Harmon always said one achieved more with kindness than with harshness.

“Yer a stranger.” The woman’s shaking middle finger accused.

Huh. This woman the epitome of the latter.

“Madam, ’tis that I am. Please be, I intend no harm. I assure you. Just seeking. I shan’t be long.” Should be easy to check births around the time of her own, though this woman need not know that specific detail.

“Seeking? Huh, seeking ye what?”

Was it so wrong to seek? Lexxie sucked in a full breath. Her throat irritated by resins, she stifled a cough. But nay, she hadn’t come all this way to permit some grumpy old spinster to blockade her. Forget the kindness of honey, Harmon. Time for some harsh vinegar.

“Are ye cloaking history? Is that what you are saying, madam?”

The old woman shot an indication to a wooden door hidden beside the nave.

Lexxie jockeyed between pews in the direction the bony finger specified, stifling the clicks of her shoes as much as possible.

Whew. She knocked.

“We don’t lock history.” The old woman’s crusty voice echoed, having the last word.

This door, not nearly the heft nor clangor as the one fronting the church, Lexxie nudged and invited herself in. Larger than one might expect, the narrow room hosted wooden shelving loaded with books up to the ceiling sidelong. A movable ladder rested against the end wall, and an unlit kerosene lamp awaited on the single high table.

Help would be nice, some guidance as to the order of records. Lexxie glanced back where the scowling woman gave her a second glance. Then again, Lexxie could figure it out herself. After lighting the lamp, she shut the door for privacy.

A musty flavor and layers of dust from decades past awoke and scurried about. No window to allow a breeze of any sort. Once her sneezes settled, she walked the length of the room, thankful now for those daylong lessons in reading and writing with Grossmutter. ’Twas the age of enlightenment, Grossmutter would say. She kept at least one lesson ahead of Lexxie, so as to in turn share the blessing.

A thin cotton curtain covered one section of shelving beside a nailed sign—Prohibited Books. She edged closer to shelving with books of various sizes, difficult to distinguish due to caging, each row with its own locked latch. Huh, don’t lock history, say you?

She wandered to a series of consistent volumes laying heavy on their own, their leathery pasteboard covers bound with cord and red edging their pages. Numbers stitched atop.

Years, yes! Those ones were organized by years. They had to be the records she sought.

All she possessed now was her birth year. Harmon wouldn’t have lied about her age, would he?

A shiver ran through her veins. There had to be over seventy books, each covering a year, each varying in thickness.

Here it be: 1671. Energizing another dust cloud with a loud exhale, she heaved the book off the shelf and clutched it tight to her bosom. Her heartbeat thumped against the pasteboard cover. The registry for the year she was born must speak to her, reveal information she was desperate for. Vital to get on with any way of future.

She released her gripping hug, placed the heavy book on the table, and wiped dry her sweaty palms down the skirt of her new frock.

Overwhelm assaulted her. Harmon, the loving father she adored all those years. Grossmutter, the wise, gentle, and kind grandmother, her only female influencer. Was it true they be not her family? Would opening this book mean turning her back on them?

’Course, she’d already done so, hadn’t she?

If only they were cruel or unloving. Made her work like a slave. Cussed and cursed her day in and day out. This then would be so much easier. Her fingers twitched to shove the book back onto its shelf. Her legs urged her to take flight, run all the way back to Avondale, and bury this outlandish nonsense.

But nonsense, it weren’t.

The pounding in her chest begged to keep going, threatening to explode if she stopped now. She almost missed the rubbing of hinges, the only door to this library tomb opening, a male figure entering, the unwelcoming floor-polishing ogre poking her head around him to catch a glimpse.

“Searching, are we?” The man’s monotoned query struck an unexplainable chord.

Author Bio:

Not proud to admit, I’ve struggled with authority and routine since I can remember. A feisty red-headed child, I’ve barrelled my fist through windowpanes, ran away numerous times (to a bowling alley of all places), and even once, used a water pistol on my high school science teacher (right in his face, it was a dare). I actually managed to attain a master’s degree in business (though, really didn’t use it much). Instead, I preferred weekday evening classes in theology and weekend scribbling sessions of fantasy fiction. Losing a beloved teenage daughter to cancer snapped me to attention, then another (the second, a dear step-daughter) really did me in. Besides relishing the dearness of my husband and our other three children and their families, I write fantasy fiction with meaning. My mantra (which I made up of course) …because even a little heavenly imagination can loosen the chains of life. - Johanna Frank

"Frank, one of Canada’s emerging authors in spiritual fantasy, walks a fine line between general fantasy and faith-based fiction. Her work aims to innovate and transcend traditional boundaries, catering to a hungry market of curious readers who don’t want to be preached to but are open to exploring spiritual themes through fantasy." - Sheri Hoyte, Reader Views

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Facebook

GIVEAWAY!
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Book Blitz of If You Lie by Caleb Stephens(#contests, #thriller- Win a Signed Copy of the Book)

If You Lie: A Thriller
Caleb Stephens
Publication date: November 1st 2024
Genres: Adult, Thriller

 

A buried past. A new-age cult. A floating prison with no way off.

Seven years ago, Olivia woke up in the trunk of a stranger’s car—and barely escaped with her life. She’s been looking over her shoulder ever since.

Now, Olivia is a true-crime podcaster on a mission to help other women avoid her fate. But years spent covering violence and crime have left her burned out. So when Olivia’s estranged sister Quinn invites her to reconnect on an exclusive cruise, she jumps at the chance for a break…only this trip won’t be the relaxing vacation she’s hoping for.

The ship is elegant, the meals are divine, and the people are friendly—maybe too friendly. But Quinn isn’t the sister Olivia remembers. And strange things are starting to happen that echo Olivia’s past in unsettling ways.

When someone on the ship goes missing, Olivia realizes she’s playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Only this time, she might not survive.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Sounds came.

The steady ping of rain drumming against steel.

The muted whoosh of wind. The high whine of rubber kissing asphalt.

I was moving.

Why am I moving?

Air clawed up my throat and slid back down again—slowly, painfully—my lungs pulling harder than my esophagus would allow, my chest rising and falling in uneven shifts. I couldn’t breathe.

I should be able to—

My eyelids snapped open to darkness. Pure black. I tried to scream and couldn’t. My voice was gone, lost in my burning throat. Another sound came instead—this one closer, directly overhead.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

I raised my hands and brushed a loose rod, then pushed past it and felt cool metal press against my palm. I followed it lower, the metal curving behind my head until it terminated in a rubber seal.

A car, I thought. I’m in a trunk.

Oh, God …

Oh, fuck.

It’s why my knees were jammed in a fetal position, why a rough pad of carpet burned against my cheek and scratched my neck. A shot of cold panic swam down my spine. Time stuttered, and I wheezed for oxygen. It felt like I was breathing through a straw. I was going to pass out if I didn’t get it together and fast.

Focus, Olivia. Stay calm.

And then: He thinks I’m dead.

It’s why my hands weren’t bound, why my mouth wasn’t gagged. It’s why my ankles weren’t slung in an interstate of knots. The man who’d done this to me thought I was dead. I could still feel his fingers squeezing, digging into my neck, could still hear his voice burning hot in my ear.

Fucking die, already!

Those words pouring over me in a shower of sour breath.

Clack. C-Clack. Clack.

Think, Olivia! You have to think!

I slowed my breathing and forced my mind to calm. There had to be a way to open the trunk or signal another car. A wire to rip free from the brake lights or a latch to pop. Didn’t all the newer cars have those specifically for situations like this? For women who, like me, simply disappeared?

And I would disappear if I didn’t find a way to get out.

My heart sloshed in my chest, and I rolled to my right, toward the sidewall of the trunk, and extended an arm. My fingers brushed over objects I recognized. Jumper cables, and a can of gas. Coiled rope and boxes. A hard plastic case. Duct tape. Nothing else.

Jesus, no latch.

I tried the other side, muttering a prayer as my hands crawled through a graveyard of clinking bottles, my fingers scraping over the dry brush of cardboard and through the crinkle of plastic sacks. Dust tickled the back of my nose, and I nearly unleashed a sneeze before I bit it off. Don’t! He’ll hear you. Then I tried again, moving slower this time, feeling for what had to be there.

And it was—nestled a few inches above the floor of the trunk.

A trunk release. A lever to pull.

Reality wobbled. My heart fluttered and crashed.

Work, I thought. Please, God, work.

I pulled.

There came a click, and the world exploded into a fireball of light. A gray sky moved above me, swollen with thunderheads, trees sweeping past on either side. Headlights coasted behind the car in a sea of rushing metal. Cold rain lashed against my neck. I forced myself upright, and the brakes slammed and sent me hurtling backward as the car screeched to a stop.

Move! Move! Move!

I scrambled from the trunk.

One foot connected with the ground. The other slipped. I crashed to the road, and the sound of rain filled my ears along with the heavy thunk of a door opening. Two boots hit asphalt.

His boots.

Air scabbed over my lips. The world swam.

Go! I pushed myself upright—and I ran. Across the white line on the shoulder of the road and into traffic with brakes shrieking all around me. Horns tearing past. Rain pelting my face. Wind hissing in my ears. Behind me came a full-throat roar.

“Stop, you fucking bitch!”

My lungs burned for air, everything smearing to a blur.

“I said, stop!” Louder this time. Closer.

But I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. I kept running—pushing through the fire in my chest, ignoring the pain in my throat—until I stumbled off the road and tumbled down a grass-slicked descent.

Rolling now. Everything spinning. Gasping for air.

I splashed into a pool of muddy water and came up coughing, wiping my eyes to a sight that filled me with terror. The man stood above me on the hill, looking down with one hand balled into a fist and the other holding a knife.

You’re dead, I thought. He’s going to kill you.

A cloud of blue and red light rose behind him followed by a voice. “Remain where you are! Drop the knife!”

But the man didn’t. He just stared down at me with his breath turning to mist.

And took a step. Took another.

Then the gunshots rang out.

Author Bio:

Caleb Stephens is an award-winning author writing from Denver, Colorado. His novels include the thrillers If You Lie, The Girls in the Cabin, and Feeders, as well as the darkly humorous urban fantasy novel, Soul Couriers, which is forthcoming in 2025. His fiction collection If Only a Heart and Other Tales of Terror includes the short story “The Wallpaper Man,” which was adapted to film by Falconer Film & Media in 2022. He's hard at work writing his next thriller.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / TikTok

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Book Spotlight of Double Barrel Bluff by Lou Berney

I want to welcome Lou Berney to Books R Us. Lou is the author of Double Barrel Bluff. Book three in the Shake Bouchon series. To be published Nov 5th. Thanks for stopping by.

About the Book:

During his years as a wheelman for the Armenian mob in Las Vegas, Shake Bouchon didn’t think of himself as the settling-down type. But now he’s happily married to Gina, the love of his life—and former adversary—in Indiana, of all places.

The great thing about Bloomington, for two people with exceptionally checkered pasts, is that everyone is nice and no one knows them. Until the day a brutal Armenian thug who has always hated Shake shows up in his backyard. He demands that Shake help him find the missing mob boss, the pakhan—the dangerous and beautiful Alexandra “Lexy” Ilandryan, who also happens to be Shake’s ex-girlfriend.

Shake’s got a lot of history with Lexy, so he reluctantly agrees to travel to Siem Reap, Cambodia, where she was last seen. Once there, he finds himself in a predatory underworld of Cambodian gangsters, mob politics, and opportunistic expats, where the stakes aren’t clear and everyone is looking to gain. With only the help of a clairvoyant hippie and the Armenian thug, Shake becomes involved in a high-stakes negotiation for Lexy that might cost him his own life. But perhaps most threatening of all is Gina’s wrath when she arrives in Cambodia intent on saving Shake from himself—and from all the people trying to kill him.

 

About the Author:

Lou Berney is the author of the novels Dark Ride, November Road, The Long and Faraway Gone, Whiplash River, and Gutshot Straight. His books have won the Edgar, Hammett, Steel Dagger, Barry, Macavity, Lefty, and Anthony awards, and he has been a finalist twice for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize. His short fiction has appeared in publications such as The New Yorker, Ploughshares, and the Pushcart Prize anthology. He teaches in the MFA program at Oklahoma City University.

 

Connect with the Author: 

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Excerpt and Spotlight of the Book Tender Temptation by Kaylene Winter -Mature Readers only(#Contest- Win A Signed Copy of the Book)

Tender Temptation
Kaylene Winter
(Charming Irish, #1)
Publication date: October 3rd 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Tender Temptation is a scorching tale of age-gap, insta-forbidden-love, hidden identities, coming of age, and second chances.

I’m a master at rebuilding structures, yet my own life is a constant work in progress. As the middle brother in a family of superstars, I’ve battled alcohol addiction and shoulder the hefty challenge of taking over the family business.

My world makes a seismic shift when I fall hard for Ivy Bright, a vibrant, enigmatic firecracker whose captivating energy makes me feel invincible.

Ivy is more than just a spark in my shadowed world—she’s a blaze. Her luminous presence ignites a clandestine desire in me that I can’t resist. But Ivy harbors deep secrets and a tragic past that keeps her trapped in a life she never chose. Despite our undeniable chemistry, her decision to conceal her age and identity backfires spectacularly, threatening to unravel both our hearts.

Years later, will our rekindled passion withstand buried secrets that come to light, or will the truths of our past push us apart forever?

Goodreads / Purchase

 

EXCERPT:

Her body was sculpted for temptation. Short, cut-off shorts showed off her long, muscled legs to perfection. The black bodysuit she wore clung to her curves, leaving nothing to my imagination. Her tits. God, her tits. Creamy mounds of deliciousness spilling out of her top. Her nipples practically poked through the fabric.

She was, without question, the most exquisite woman I’d ever laid eyes on. The ultimate paradox of innocence and allure. A saint cloaked in the clothes of a siren.

I couldn’t look away. Not for a second. I knew I had to have her.

The way she moved through the crowd—poised and self-assured with a hint of awkward—reminded me of a newborn fawn taking in the world for the first time.

I watched her, transfixed, like a schoolboy.

Then, as if compelled by a gravitational pull, she turned to me and her turquoise eyes caught mine.

And it was all over.

Brennan listens with rapt attention. He doesn’t interrupt or give any indication he’s judging me. I drop the bomb.

“I should have known better.” My voice is a whisper of shame. “I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. Hell, I didn’t even register there could be consequences until it was too late.”

“Shit, man. You never told me the whole story. Heavy.” He leans back in the booth and scrubs his stubble with his big paw. “Things make more sense now.”

I’m not a man who cries easily, but my eyes sting with unshed tears. I’m nauseous with desperation. “At the time, I thought I was justified. But, what I did…how it ended. I’m ashamed.” My admission is raw and frightening. Brennan well knows about my descent into hell after it all went down—he’s the one who helped pull me out.

My brother reaches across the table and grabs my wrist. “People make mistakes. It wasn’t your fault. Work your steps. Forgive yourself, it’s in the past.”

“Easier said than done.” I shake my head sadly.

He arches an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because she’s back.” I wince and recap what happened earlier today.

Brennan’s skin pales. “Oh,fuck"

 

Author Bio:

When she was only 15, Kaylene Winter wrote her first rocker romance novel starring a fictionalized version of herself, her friends and their gorgeous rocker boyfriends. After living her own rockstar life as a band manager, music promoter and mover and shaker in Seattle during the early 1990’s, Kaylene became a digital media legal strategist helping bring movies, television and music online. Throughout her busy career, Kaylene lost herself in romance novels across all genres inspiring her to realize her life-long dream to be a published author. She lives in Seattle with her amazing husband and dog. She loves to travel, throw lavish dinner parties and support charitable causes supporting arts and animals.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / TikTok

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Book Blitz of Killer Motives by Bonnie Traymore (#Contests- Win An Amazon Gift Card)

 

Killer Motives
Bonnie Traymore
Publication date: April 14th 2022
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Suspense

 

“A riveting, pulse-pounding, adrenaline rush of a thriller. Do not miss this book!” – Noelle W. Ihli, author of Gray After Dark

Readers’ Favorite 2023 Silver Medal Award Winner, Mystery-Murder
Audiobook Reviewer 2023 Best Mystery Award

Victoria’s life isn’t as perfect as it seems. But with two homicide detectives on her doorstep, it’s about to get a lot worse.

Still reeling from the shocking discovery that her husband is having a passionate affair with his real estate client, Victoria struggles to process the mind-blowing news that Nick’s lover is dead—brutally murdered in cold blood on the very same evening she uncovered the truth.

And now two detectives are on her doorstep, waiting to question both of them. Is she a suspect?

With little hard evidence and no shortage of suspects with “killer motives,” Detectives Jack Stark and Lexi Sanchez are under intense pressure to solve the high-profile murder case that rocks the picturesque village of Tarrytown just as the town is gearing up for the area’s annual Halloween festivities and an influx of tourists.

As Victoria sets out to clear herself and find out the truth, she’s faced with two terrifying possibilities—either her husband is a murderer or someone is out to get them.

Conflicted about her marriage and emotionally raw, she sets out to find the truth about what happened that night.

But does she really want to know?

Perfect for fans of Shari Lapena, Jeneva Rose, Sarah Pekkanen, Kaira Rouda, or Shalini Boland.

Add to Goodreads / AMAZON

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EXCERPT:

Victoria was home working off some nervous energy as she put the dishes away and wiped yesterday’s smudges off the white Shaker cabinet doors. Out the kitchen window, the sun sparkled magically on the Hudson River reflecting the scarlet and gold of the fall foliage clinging to its steep banks. Her melancholy mood from the evening before had turned to excitement, bolstered by a bit too much caffeine on an empty stomach and her Alanis jams playing in the background. She had already called her attorney and had an appointment for next week. She would put all that out of mind until then. Today, she had a meeting scheduled at her office at eleven this morning, an important one, and her benefit dinner tonight. It was now half past nine and she needed to get going. She was almost finished emptying the dishwasher in her methodical manner–only a few cups were left–when her cell phone vibrated against the granite island countertop, its dark surface blending in with the stone. She reached over to grab it. There was a text from her husband: It’s an emergency. Call me.

There were also three missed calls from him and a voicemail. Nick was not given to hyperbole. Quite the opposite. He was actually a bit too laid back, never worrying much about anything. He had never sent a text like that before. She called immediately, not bothering to check her voicemail, putting it on speaker as she finished her chores.

“Vic?” His voice was soft, almost apologetic. He didn’t seem hurt or in danger.

“Nick. What is it?” She felt mildly annoyed, already.

“I have something to tell you, and I’m warning you it’s pretty shocking.” Was he actually going to confess about the affair now? Over a cell call? That was totally unlike him.

“I have to get to work, Nick. What’s so urgent?” She was starting to wish she’d ignored his text.

“My client. From the Shady Hill property. The one I went to see last night? The police called me. She was found dead. At her house. This morning.”

Victoria placed the last clean mug on the counter. Dead? A heart attack or something? No. The police wouldn’t call Nick for something like that. There had to be more to it. She picked up the phone and took it off speaker.

“What happened?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t know, but a homicide detective is meeting me at the house any minute now. They called and wanted to meet with me in person. ‘See if I could shed some light on it,’ was how he put it. Jeff told me to meet them at our house, not at the station.”

“Homicide? She was murdered?” Victoria had to hand it to Nick. This certainly reached the bar of ‘emergency.’

“They didn’t say that, exactly. He said he’d tell me more in person. I don’t know much more than you do at this point. What if I was the last person to see her alive, Vic?” Nick’s voice was shakier now, almost panicky.

“So? You’re certainly not responsible for her death?”

“That’s what Jeff said.”

“What does Jeff have to do with this? You called Jeff before you called me?” She thought that sounded like the actions of a guilty person, reaching out to your attorney friend. But guilty of what?

“He’s an attorney! And he knows her! I told you, remember? They had that law suit going. Let’s not do this now. Please!” His tone was harsher now, devoid of sentimentality. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up. The detective might get there before I do. They’ll probably want to question you too. Tell them I’m on my way. I’d appreciate some support. I’m your husband, Victoria, please try to remember that.” He hung up.

She picked up the mug she’d left on the counter, looking out to the sun’s rays sparkling on the Hudson, her thoughts suspended in the timeless currents of the flowing river. It was all starting to hit her now, just what a disaster this was. The photos that were supposed to liberate her from the marriage were now a liability, potentially placing her at a crime scene. What do detectives look for? Means, motive, and opportunity? She had two out of three for now. Should she be worried? And what about Nick? He was acting strangely last night, and she’d attributed it to a guilty conscience. The affair, she assumed. But could it have been more? She knew Nick wasn’t overtly violent, but anyone could commit murder given the right circumstances. What if the woman had gotten pushy? Demanding? Threatening? How far would Nick go to protect what was his? She needed time to think, consult with an attorney. But she didn’t have the luxury of time.

The gate buzzer sounded, jolting her out of her stupor, and the mug slipped from her hand, shattering into pieces on the travertine tile floor. She quickly picked up the big chunks, but the shards of porcelain would have to wait.

Author Bio:

Bonnie Traymore is the Amazon Bestselling author of seven domestic/psychological thrillers. Her thrillers feature strong but relatable female protagonists who peel back the layers of suburban American life and give readers a peek inside. The plots explore difficult topics such as jealousy, infidelity, murder, and the impact of psychological disorders, but she also includes bits of romance and humor to lighten the mood from time to time. She's an active status member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America.

Bonnie has a doctorate in United States history and has taught at top independent high schools as well as Columbia University and the University of Hawaii. Originally from the NYC area, she resides in Honolulu with her family.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram

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