Where I share my love of books with reviews, features, giveaways and memes. Family and needlepoint are thrown in from time to time.
Showing posts with label book excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book excerpt. Show all posts

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Book Review: The Night the Lights Went Out by Karen White





Title: The Night the Lights Went Out
Author: Karen White
Publisher: Berkley
Publication Date: April 11, 2017

About the book:  Set in the gilded realm of Sweet Apple, Georgia, THE NIGHT THE LIGHTS WENT OUT achieves a magnetic sense of place, and with good reason—it is the first novel White, the “Queen of southern fiction” (Huffington Post), has set in her own community, the affluent suburbs of Atlanta. She puts you in the carpool line made up of giant SUVs and has you rolling your eyes at the Head Mom in Charge’s passive aggressive tactics, bless her heart.


In THE NIGHT THE LIGHTS WENT OUT, recently divorced Merilee Talbot Dunlap moves with her two children to Sweet Apple, Georgia. It’s not her first time starting over, but her new beginning isn’t helped by an anonymous local blog that reveals for the whole town the scandalous affair that caused her marriage to fail. And Merilee’s new landlord, the proud, irascible, Atlanta born-and-bred 93-year-old Sugar Prescott, certainly isn’t helping.

But off Sugar’s property, Merilee finds herself swallowed into the town’s most elite ranks—its inner circle of wealthy school moms—thanks to her blossoming friendship with the belle of Sweet Apple, Heather Blackford. But behind the tennis whites, shiny SUVs, and immaculate women, lurk generations of secrets and resentments. And Merilee quickly learns that, in a town where appearance is everything, sins and secrets can be found in equal measure in the dark woods on Sugar’s property, and within the gated mansions of her newfound friends…

~I received a complimentary e-copy of this book from Berkley via Net Galley in exchange for my honest review.~

My thoughts: I really enjoy books set in the South, they always have a different sort of feel to them.  Merilee was likable, if somewhat naive, but given her circumstances I will cut her some slack.  I loved Sugar - crusty on the outside, but very caring and loyal underneath - just don't get on her bad side!  Of course there are a couple of men in the story - Dan Blackford, "Ken to Heather's Barbie", and a successful doctor to boot! And Wade, grandson of Sugar's best friend and potential love interest for Merilee.

Full of "southernisms"  (Bless her heart. . . ) the anonymous blog/blogger lent some humor and wisdom to the goings on in Sweet Apple.  There are lots of secrets that get spilled, lots of family - much of it dysfunctional, and lots of love and loyalty.  And if you are familiar with the song that I am sure the book takes its name from, there is also murder.

It was a very quick read and I liked the way that it would jump back in time and share Sugar's history.  The intermittent blog posts were also fun to read.  Perfect for this time of year, it would be a great beach read!

Excerpt from : The Night the Lights Went Out

A cluster of moms stood in the parking lot surrounded by high-end SUVs following first day drop-off at Windwood Academy. The women appeared to be listening with rapt attention to the tall blond woman in the center of their semi-circle, her hair arranged perfectly beneath her white tennis visor, her long and lean limbs brown and glowy. Merilee noticed this last part only because her ex-mother-in-law had given her a bottle of glowy lotion for her last birthday and Lily had told her it made her look sparkly like Katy Perry in one of her videos. Merilee had thrown out the remainder of the bottle, realizing she wasn’t the type anymore to look glowy much less sparkly.

But the blonde definitely was. Her whole body glowed. Her face glowed. Even the hair visible beneath the visor appeared to be lit from within. The woman looked vaguely familiar, and Merilee realized she’d probably been one of the mothers she’d met at the open house the previous week. She’d only been to the one let’s-get-acquainted event, her work schedule precluding any of the various parties that were held almost exclusively on weekdays when she worked.

Merilee was terrible with names, had been ever since she started dating Michael. He was so good at it, always reminding her who everyone was when they were at a party, that she’d simply stopped trying. She hoped she was only out of practice instead of permanently disabled. Her children’s futures probably depended on it since Michael wouldn’t be there to make sure Merilee remembered the names of Lily’s friends who were or were not speaking to each other. And which of Colin’s teachers appreciated his dreamy attitude and those who didn’t. It had always been a game with them—her recalling every detail about a friend or teacher, details always overlooked by Michael—and then he’d fill in the missing part—the name. But now she had to do it all on her own.

She smiled vaguely in the direction of the blond woman and her entourage and had almost made it to her van when she heard her name being called.

“Merilee? Merilee Dunlap?”

Great. The woman not only remembered her first name, but her last as well. Forcing a warm smile on her face, Merilee turned. “Oh, hello. It’s good to see you again.”

The other women parted like the Red Sea as the tall blond walked toward Merilee and she remembered that the woman had been wearing a Lily Pulitzer sundress and two-carat diamond stud earrings when they’d met before. But she didn’t remember her name. “I thought that was you. I looked for you in Mrs. Marshall’s homeroom. I’m the room mother and wanted to welcome Lily myself.”

Merilee remembered the voice. It was very Southern, heavily laced with dropped consonants and elongated vowels. The most memorable part about it was that it sounded exactly like Merilee’s mother.

“We were running a bit late this morning.” Feeling suddenly short and frumpy in her dark skirt and blazer, Merilee had the strong urge to explain. “My son couldn’t find his new uniform shoes. They somehow managed to find their way back into the box they came in and then got shoved so far under his bed that it took nearly twenty minutes to locate them. And then Lily spilled her bowl of cereal and milk down the front of her skirt, and I had to quickly iron one of her other ones so she could wear it.”

The woman gave her a warm smile from behind dark Chanel sunglasses as if she knew exactly what it was like to be a frazzled single mother. “Bless your heart. And on the first day at a new school. You’ll get used to the routine, I promise. It took me a whole month to realize that I should have a skirt and blouse for every school day plus one, and have Patricia have them cleaned and ironed as soon as my girls dropped them on the floor.”

Not exactly sure how to reslake, Merilee picked out the first confusing part of the sentence. “Patricia?”

“My house manager. I couldn’t live without her. You know how crazy busy it is with all of the kids’ schedules.” She reached into her large handbag that was more briefcase than purse, with a designer’s logo sprouting over its surface like kudzu. “I was going to stick this in the mail to you, but since you’re here I’ll give it to you now. It’s a sign-up sheet for parties and field trips—it lists everything for the year. Just let me know your availabilities and ask Lily to bring it in to school and give to Bailey as soon as you can. Bailey is very responsible and will make sure it gets to me.” The woman smiled, her teeth perfect. “Only sign up for four—every mother wants to be at every single event, but then it just gets crowded—plus there won’t be room on the bus for the kids.”

“Only four…” Merilee took the list and looked at it, almost letting out an audible sigh when she saw the woman’s name at the top of the page, Heather Blackford, Class Mother, followed by three different phone numbers. Now she remembered. Heather had a daughter in Colin’s class, too, both girls’ names starting with ‘B’.

“Yes. And if you could turn it back in tomorrow that would be terrific. I’ll have Claire put it all in a spreadsheet and I’ll email it to all the mothers. Please write neatly—Claire has a way of butchering your name if she can’t read it.”

“Claire?”

“My personal assistant. She’s only part time but I would simply die of exhaustion without her.”
The ladies behind her all nodded in understanding.

“Yes, well, I’ll take a look at it and get it back to you tomorrow.” Merilee was already wondering how she was going to approach her boss to ask him for more time off. The divorce and move had already eaten up all of her vacation time, and although Max was kind and understanding, everyone had their limits.

“And don’t forget the ‘I survived my first week of fourth grade’ party at my lake house this Saturday. I’ll be handing out disposable cameras to all the moms and dads to take pictures throughout the year at our various events—I like to do little photo albums for all the kids and the teachers at the end of the year.” She beamed, like it was just a small thing. “Oh, and I took the liberty of signing you up for a dessert because we’re overrun with vegetables and dip and pimiento cheese. I figured you’d know how to make something sweet.”

“Oh…” Merilee simply blinked her eyes for a moment, wondering if Heather had meant to be insulting.

“Because you’re from South Georgia. You mentioned that when we met. You said I had the same accent as your mother.”

Feeing oddly relieved, Merilee said, “Yes, of course. Where did you say you were from?”
“Here and there—but mostly Georgia. I can always tell a native Georgian. Hard to hide it, isn’t it? It’s almost like no matter how far you go in life, all you have to do is open your mouth and somebody knows exactly where you’re from.”

There was something in the way Heather said it that made Merilee pause. “Yes, well, I’ll call my mother today and ask her what she might recommend.”

“Wonderful.” Heather beamed. She pointed a key fob toward a black Porsche SUV with vanity plates that read YERSERV, and the rear door slowly raised. As the other mothers oohed and ahhed appropriately, Merilee stared into the trunk where fourteen metallic gift bags with blue or pink tissue paper expertly pleated at the tops were arranged in neat rows.

Heather moved toward the car. “A little lagniappe—that’s Cajun for ‘a little extra’ to all of my Yankee friends—for the first day of school. My treat. I thought we could each give our children a bag at pickup today and then head over to Scoops for ice cream afterwards. I’ve already reserved the party room at the back of the store. Claire is picking up the helium balloons this morning and will have it all decorated in Windwood colors.”

“You are just too much,” one of the mothers said as the other women eagerly stepped toward the car and took a bag.


Since Karen White burst onto the publishing scene, she has written eleven New York Times bestsellers, created the beloved Tradd Street series, and left readers on the edge of their seats awaiting each year’s new standalone novel. I have reviewed one of her earlier books, The Lost Hours, and have many more on my TBR list - including Flight Patterns!

FLIGHT PATTERNS tells the story of Georgia Chambers, a fine china expert who left her family years before and is forced to return home and repair the relationships she’s carefully avoided. To embrace her own life—mistakes and all—she will have to find the courage to confront the ghosts of her past and the secrets she was forced to keep.


Karen White is the New York Times bestselling author of more than twenty novels, including the Tradd Street series, The Night the Lights Went OutFlight PatternsThe Sound of GlassA Long Time Gone, and The Time Between. She is the coauthor of The Forgotton Room with New York Times bestselling authors Beatriz Williams and Lauren Willig. She grew up in London but now lives with her husband and two children near Atlanta, Georgia.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Book Promo: Black Dog by Stephen Booth



Black Dog

by Stephen Booth

on Tour October 8 - November 8, 2013






Book Details:

Genre: Fiction/Crime
Published by: Witness / HarperCollins
Publication Date: 10/8/2013
ISBN: 9780062301963
Series: 1st in the Ben Cooper & Diane Fry Series
Purchase Links:

Synopsis:

The helicopters are halted. The search for fifteen-year-old Laura Vernon ends when her body is found, murdered, in the forest.

On his hunt for the killer, detective Ben Cooper begins to suspect the people of Derbyshire are guarding some dark secrets-secrets that Laura might have known. Further complicating his investigation, Cooper is paired with an unfamiliar partner: Diane Fry, a woman as tenacious as she is alluring. Together they learn that in order to understand the town’s present, they must unearth its past.

Black Dog is like Twin Peaks by way of Tana French, and the first novel in the multiple award-winning Cooper and Fry series.


Read an excerpt:

The spot where Ben Cooper stood was remote and isolated. A passing walker wouldn't have been able to see him up here among the bracken, even if he'd bothered to look up.

Cooper turned round, wafting his hand across his face against the flies. He was looking through the trees and thick brambles as if towards the end of a dark tunnel, where the figure of Harry Dickinson was framed in a network of branches. Cooper had to squint against a patch of dazzling light that soaked the hillside in strong colours. The old man stood in the glare of the low sun, with hot rocks shimmering around him like a furnace. The haze of heat made his outline blur and writhe, as if he were dancing a slow shimmy. His shadow, flung across the rocks, seemed to wriggle and jerk as its shape fragmented among the bracken and brambles.

The expression in Harry's eyes was unreadable, his face lying partly in the shade from the peak of his cap. Cooper couldn't even tell which way he was looking, whether he'd turned away or was staring directly towards him in the trees. He wanted to grab the old man by the shoulders and shake him. He wanted to tell him that somebody had disturbed this spot, and recently. The evidence was right there for anyone to see, and to smell.

There had been two people here, and at least one of them had been looking for more than just rabbits. The smell that lingered under the trees was of stale blood. And the flies had found something even more attractive than Cooper's sweat to feed on.

Author Bio:

Stephen Booth is an award winning British crime writer, the creator of two young Derbyshire police detectives, DC Ben Cooper and DS Diane Fry, who have appeared in twelve novels set in England’s beautiful and atmospheric Peak District.

Stephen has been a Gold Dagger finalist, an Anthony Award nominee, twice winner of a Barry Award for Best British Crime Novel, and twice shortlisted for the Theakston’s Crime Novel of the Year. Ben Cooper was a finalist for the Sherlock Award for the best detective created by a British author, and in 2003 the Crime Writers’ Association presented Stephen with the Dagger in the Library Award for “the author whose books have given readers the most pleasure”.

The Cooper & Fry series is published all around the world, and has been translated into 15 languages. The latest title is DEAD AND BURIED, with a new book, ALREADY DEAD, published in June 2013.

Catch Up With the Author:




Tour Participants:



Thursday, October 10, 2013

Book Blitz and Giveaway: No Angel by Helen Keeble



No Angel
by Helen Keeble
Published by: HarperTeen
Publication date: October 8th 2013
Paranormal, Young Adult

Rafael Angelos just got handed the greatest gift any teenage boy could ever dream of. Upon arriving at his new boarding school for senior year, he discovered that he is the ONLY male student. But what should have been a godsend isn’t exactly heaven on Earth.

Raffi’s about to learn that St. Mary’s is actually a hub for demons-and that he was summoned to the school by someone expecting him to save the day. Raffi knows he’s no angel-but it’s pretty hard to deny that there’s some higher plan at work when he wakes up one morning to discover a glowing circle around his head.

Helen Keeble’s debut novel, Fang Girl, has been praised for its pitch-perfect teen voice, and VOYA called it “refreshing and reminiscent of Louise Rennison’s Confessions of Georgia Nicolson series.” No Angel brings you angels and demons like you’ve never seen them-complete with the wry humor of Vladimir Tod, sinfully irreverent romance, and some hilariously demonic teenage dilemmas.





Purchase Links: 

  

Excerpt from No Angel

In which our hero arrives at his new school…

The shiny new sign above the towering wrought-iron gates said ST. MARY’S BOARDING SCHOOL FOR GIRLS AND BOYS, which, as it turned out, was wrong by one letter.
“Wait,” I said, staring at the Headmistress with a slow-rising sensation of dread. “You mean I’m just the first guy to arrive, right?”
“If you fail to understand the meaning of the word only, Mr. Angelos, I will have to schedule you for remedial English lessons,” replied the short, severe woman. “But to make it crystal clear, you are indeed the first, sole, singular member of the male gender here.” It was obvious that she considered this at least one boy too many. “I trust you will be a worthy representative of your species. Welcome to St. Mary’s.”
Declarations of outright war had been uttered in friendlier tones. I grabbed my dad’s arm as he came back from the car, carrying the last of my suitcases. “I’ve changed my mind,” I said, turning us away from the waiting Headmistress. “Don’t leave me here!”
“You were the one who begged to come to your mother’s old school when you found they were accepting boys this year. ‘A way of honoring her memory’, you said.” He dropped my bags in front of the school gates and raised an eyebrow. “Not to mention ‘a heaven of honeys in very short skirts’, as I recall you saying to your friends.”
I flushed. I hadn’t realized he’d overheard that conversation. “But I thought there would be at least a few other guys around. Who am I supposed to talk to?”
“Girls?” Dad suggested mildly.
“Ha ha. Seriously, Dad!”
“You want serious?” Dad folded his arms, looking up at me. “It’s cost me a serious amount of money to enroll you here, so I expect you to actually make an effort for once, Raffi. St. Mary’s has always been one of the most exclusive schools in England, and we’re incredibly fortunate that they’re opening up to boys at last. And even more fortunate that they’re allowing you in for just the final year.” His finger jabbed me in the center of my chest. “You will work hard.”
Behind him, the Headmistress’s expression suggested that she personally thought boys were best put to work down dangerous mine shafts.
I scowled down at my feet, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my new suit. “If it’s so fabulous here, then why didn’t any other guys apply?” I muttered under my breath.
“Our entrance requirements are extremely strict,” the Headmistress said as if I’d spoken normally. “There was no shortage of male applicants, I assure you. Were it not for your late mother, I would have rejected you along with all the rest. But she was a personal friend of mine, as well as an outstanding member of this institution.” She fixed me with a piercing stare. “I trust you will live up to her legacy.”
“You hear that?” My dad poked me again. “This is your last chance, Raffi. You’re lucky to get into any school, after what happened at your last one. You should be grateful for this opportunity.” In my head, I started reciting the inevitable speech along with him. I’d heard it enough times to have it memorized. “You can’t keep wandering around in a dream, absent-mindedly strewing chaos in your wake.“
Honestly, incinerate one lousy building by accident once, and your dad will never, ever let you forget it. “That fire wasn’t my fault!“
“Perfectly ordinary toasters do not spontaneously spout four-foot pillars of flame!”
The Headmistress took a phone out of her pocket and murmured into it, “Memo to self: Mr. Angelos is banned from Home Economics.”
My dad was still on a roll. “Your problem, Raffi, is that you’re too unworldly for your own good. You have got to quit goofing off and start paying attention to what’s going on around you-“
His voice droned on, but I didn’t hear another word. I was too busy falling in love.
She was tall, only a few inches shorter than myself, but so light and slender she seemed to float on the breeze. Her feet barely made any sound on the gravel as she slipped round the gate and headed for us, her waist-length blonde hair rippling behind her like a cloak. Even though all the girls must have been warned boys were joining them this year, she still did a very gratifying double-take at the sight of me, her summer-sky eyes widening. For my part, it was all I could do not to gawp at her like a total idiot. The instant I saw her, I knew her. She was The One.
For a moment we stared at each other. Then the girl shook herself, her hair shimmering with the movement. A delicate rose tinted her high cheekbones, but — my stomach dropped into my socks — she didn’t look pleased. A small frown marred her perfect face as she turned decisively away from me. “M- I mean, Headmistress?” Even her voice was perfect, so soft and sweet I half-expected her to break into a duet about kittens and rainbows with a passing bluebird. “Everyone’s ready and waiting.”
“Thank you, Faith,” the Headmistress replied. She lifted a hand, cutting off my dad’s lecture. “Major Angelos, while I am certain your son’s head has not yet been filled with your sound advice, time grows short. I must ask you to make your final farewells.”
“Of course.” Dad put his hands on my shoulders, looking me squarely in the eye. “Now promise me you’ll apply yourself, Raffi.”
“Oh,” I said, staring past him at Faith. “You bet I will.”
“That’s my boy.” To my utter mortification, Dad ruffled my hair, then pulled me in for a hug. “You’ll do fine.”
“Mr. Angelos, you may leave your bags here for now,” the Headmistress said as I disentangled myself as fast as possible. “Faith will escort you to the hall. A last word with you please, Major Angelos?”
“This way,” Faith said, holding the gate open for me. She avoided my eyes, her own gaze lingering on my dad and the Headmistress as they headed back toward his car. “Your dad seems nice.” There was an odd, wistful note to her musical voice. “You’re lucky.”
“I certainly am.” Falling into step with her, I tried out the charming, enigmatic smile that I’d spent the summer practicing in front of the mirror. “Though not because of my dad.”
“Yes, of course we’re all lucky to get to go to a school like this,” Faith said, a little too quickly. She indicated the carefully tended flowerbeds lining the path, and the landscaped woods beyond. I had to admit, it was all very pretty. Also, unspeakably girly. I could already feel my testosterone draining away. “It’s so beautiful here, don’t you think?”
I edged a little closer, trying to keep up my smile while also throwing in a hint of smolder. My face was starting to ache. “Yes, I do.”
“Some of the buildings we use for classrooms are hundreds of years old,” Faith said, in the bright, brittle tones of someone determinedly paddling against a conversational undertow. She lengthened her stride, like a tour guide on a tight schedule. “Look, there’s the main school building. It has many unique architectural features.” I had a horrible feeling that Faith was about to start listing them all. Given that the monstrosity rising in front of us sported everything from Gothic gargoyles to a sort of bonsai skyscraper, she could probably keep going for hours. “It started as a chapel, though of course it’s been extended a lot since then. St. Mary’s used to be a convent, you know.”
I was beginning to feel like it still was one. Faith wasn’t looking at me at all. Time to deploy the big guns. “I know a lot of things, Faith Jones. Especially about you.”
That got her attention. She stopped dead, swiveling to face me. “What do you mean?”
Going for broke, I reached for her hand, gazing deep into her astonished blue eyes as I lifted it to my lips. “I mean that you’re the reason I’m here.”
This was absolutely true. School brochure, page three, full-page picture: “After a hard day’s work, nothing beats a swim in our beautiful outdoor pool!” — Faith Jones. The photographer had captured her rising from the water with her head thrown back and water streaming from her hair, looking like some sort of classic sea-goddess. In a red bikini.
The instant I’d seen that picture, I’d known this was the school for me. And now all my research in the romance section of the library was about to pay off big time. All the wariness had vanished from Faith’s face, chased away by incredulous, breathless hope. Her fingers tightened on mine as my lips brushed the back of her hand-
“Ah, Mr. Angelos,” the Headmistress said from right behind me. “I see you’ve introduced yourself to my daughter.”
… Daughter?




About the author: Helen Keeble is not, and never has been, a vampire. She has however been a teenager. She grew up partly in America and partly in England, which has left her with an unidentifiable accent and a fondness for peanut butter crackers washed down with a nice cup of tea. She now lives in West Sussex, England, with her husband, daughter, two cats, and a variable number of fish. To the best of her knowledge, none of the fish are undead.

Her first novel, a YA vampire comedy called FANG GIRL, is out 11th Sept 2012, from HarperTeen. She also has another YA paranormal comedy novel (provisionally titled NO ANGEL) scheduled for Sept 2013.

Author Links:









Book Blitz and Giveaway: The Road to You by Marilyn Brant



The Road to You
 by Marilyn Brant
Publication date: October 3rd 2013
Mystery, New Adult, Romance


Sometimes the only road to the truth...is one you’ve never taken.

Until I found Gideon’s journal in the tool shed — locked in the cedar box where I’d once hidden my old diary — I’d been led to believe my brother was dead. But the contents of his journal changed all that.

The Road to Discovery...
Two years ago, Aurora Gray’s world turned upside down when her big brother Gideon and his best friend Jeremy disappeared. Now, during the summer of her 18th birthday, she unexpectedly finds her brother’s journal and sees that it’s been written in again. Recently. By him.

The Road to Danger...
There are secret messages coded within the journal’s pages. Aurora, who’s unusually perceptive and a natural puzzle solver, is hell bent on following where they lead, no matter what the cost. She confides in the only person she feels can help her interpret the clues: Donovan McCafferty, Jeremy’s older brother and a guy she’s always been drawn to — even against her better judgment.

The Road to You...
Reluctantly, Donovan agrees to go with her and, together, they set out on a road trip of discovery and danger, hoping to find their lost brothers and the answers to questions they’ve never dared to ask aloud.

In that expectant space between silence and melody, our trip began...


Purchase Links: 


Excerpt from The Road to You:

I’d felt a lot like an actress on the night of our brothers’ secret graduation party two years ago. For one thing, I wasn’t remotely as reserved as usual, thanks to being away from home and, also, being a little buzzed.
More than that, I remembered how the bourbon and the careless abandon of summer even made me kind of bold, and how I’d walked up to Donovan McCafferty when he was alone in the kitchenette part of the hotel suite.
“Hey, Donovan,” I murmured, standing much closer to him than I ever would have normally. But I was nearly a high-school junior then. I thought I was almost cool.
“Aurora,” he whispered, watching me with a rare inquisitive look as I smiled at him and leaned against the mauve-colored wall. That glint of interest in his gaze gave me courage.
I reached out to stroke his chest—firm against my fingertips—and I grabbed a handful of his t-shirt because I liked the sensation of it. It was deep red, newish and much softer than I’d expected. Somehow, it made sense to me in that moment to tug him close, my fingers letting go of his shirt’s front and reaching all the way around him. Caressing his back and pressing him to me. I raised my head to kiss him and noticed he was holding his breath.
For a second, he let me touch his lips with mine. Just that one single time. Then he stepped away, abruptly, and with an apology.
“Been drinking,” he said, glancing to either side of us, not that anyone else was looking. “Sorry.”
At first I didn’t know if he’d been talking about my drinking or his. I sort of laughed. “Everyone’s been drinking. Half the people in the other room are passed out.” I shrugged. “Nobody’s, um...watching us.”
I knew my best friend Betsy was making out with some townie in the hall. My brother Gideon was on the sofa—a blonde sprawled languorously on top of him. Donovan’s brother Jeremy was smoking weed with a few people in the bathroom. I could smell it. Hear them laughing.
“You’re too young,” Donovan said simply.
I was almost sixteen then and, in my expert opinion, at least as mature as a twenty-nine year old. He’d just turned twenty-one and had to be going on about thirty-five. But I liked older men. Well, specifically, this man. He was just five years older, really.
And, anyway, if he had a point, I wasn’t about to admit it.






About the author:  Marilyn Brant is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary fiction. She wrote the new adult/humorous paranormal novel ACCORDING TO JANE (2009), the women’s fiction relationship drama FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE (2010), and the romantic travel adventure A SUMMER IN EUROPE (2011), all published by Kensington Books. She's also a #1 Kindle and #1 Nook bestseller and has written a series of fun and flirty romantic comedies, including ON ANY GIVEN SUNDAE (2011) and PRIDE, PREJUDICE AND THE PERFECT MATCH (2013). Her coming-of-age romantic mystery, THE ROAD TO YOU, will be available in October 2013.

Marilyn is a lifelong music lover and a travel junkie. She’s visited 46 states and over 30 countries (so far—she's not done yet!), but she now lives in the Chicago suburbs with her family. When she isn't rereading Jane Austen's books or enjoying the latest releases by her writer friends, she's working on her next novel, eating chocolate indiscriminately and hiding from the laundry.
Author Links:
Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads 


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Blog Tour and Giveaway: Chasing Hope by Kathryn Cushman

chasing hope tour



Chasing Hope

Chasing Hope
 by Kathryn Cushman

A Personal Drama of Shattered Dreams and Second Chances

A talented runner fully committed to Olympic dreams, Sabrina Rice's future was shattered by a devastating diagnosis. One forfeited scholarship and several years later, she has new goals and dreams that have nothing to do with running--something that's become far too painful to think on.
Until the day she sees Brandy Philip running across the community college campus, easily outpacing security. Sabrina immediately recognizes world-class speed, and it's all the more painful that it belongs to a teenage graffiti artist. When a chance encounter brings the two young women together, Sabrina becomes Brandy's best hope for staying out of juvenile hall. Soon, Sabrina begins to feel an uncomfortable nudge that her new life is just about to be toppled...that God may be calling her to minister to this talented but troubled girl.

Purchase Links:  

Excerpt from Chasing Hope:


Prologue

A dozen men in ugly white outfits and weird haircuts ran barefoot along the ocean’s edge, moving faster, faster, faster, as the music swelled until it filled the entire theater. Sabrina Rice leaned forward in her seat, clutching her bag of popcorn tight to her chest. Her feet tapped against the sticky concrete floor, twitching with the urge to run alongside those men. And then she saw him. The man with his head thrown back, arms churning at his sides, and a strange sense of joy shining in his eyes. In that moment, her life made sense. In that moment, she found her hero.
It made no difference to her that this movie was over twenty years old, or that the revival theater was mostly empty, or that it would have been far more convenient to rent Chariots of Fire at the local video rental store and watch it at home—as only a few hours ago she had complained bitterly to her mother—or that she’d really wanted to go bowling with her friends today. For the next two hours, nothing existed but Sabrina and the runners on the screen, particularly Eric Liddell. And watching him, face toward the sky, drinking in God’s pleasure as he ran, that’s when she knew. With absolute certainty she knew what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. As she walked from the theater, she turned to her mother. “I am going to be an Olympic runner and I’m going to tell people about God, just like Eric Liddell. Maybe not China, though. I don’t think they allow that anymore.”
Mom threw back her head and laughed. It wasn’t one of those grown-up kinds of laughs that let a kid know how stupid they were. No, this was one of those “I’m so completely happy I can’t hold it in” kind of things. She reached down and scooped Sabrina into her arms and spun around in a circle. “Sounds terrific.”
Sabrina was so happy with her newfound purpose that she wasn’t really too embarrassed by her mother’s public display of affection—thankfully none of the kids from school were anywhere near this old movie theater. “Can we start training now? You want to go for a run when we get home?”
“I think that’s a grand idea.” And just like that, they became running partners.
Much to Mom’s credit, she never balked when Sabrina insisted that they go for a run every single morning, rain or shine. It didn’t seem to matter that Sabrina was only twelve years old and according to most grown-ups, “couldn’t possibly be serious about what she’s going to do with her life.” Even long after the point that Mom had to ride a bike to keep up, she was always there and ready.
Every single day.
At five in the morning.
Rain or shine.
For the next six years.



kathrynAbout the author: Author Kathryn "Katie" Cushman is a graduate of Samford University with a degree in pharmacy.

She is the author of five novels, including Leaving Yesterday and A Promise to Remember, which were both finalists for the Carol Award in Women's Fiction.

She is also the co-author of Angel Song with Sheila Walsh.

Kathryn and her family currently live in Santa Barbara, California.

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Monday, October 7, 2013

Book Blitz and Giveaway: Come As You Are by Theresa Weir


Come As You Are
by Theresa Weir
Publication Date: Sept 20, 2013
NA, Romance


New Adult Romance by RITA winner and New York Times author Theresa Weir

Molly Young has a secret. To keep it she holds the world at a distance. Behind her lies a trail of dumped boyfriends who came too close to discovering what no one can know. When her estranged father dies of an unexpected heart attack he leaves an even deeper secret, one tied to Molly’s.

At the funeral repast Molly is unable to tolerate the shoulder-to-shoulder mourners and runs out the door and down the street to the nearest bar. Come dawn, with no memory of the past ten hours, she finds herself in bed with a beautiful stranger. She slips away before he wakes up, unaware of the role he’s about to play in her life. Is he the one guy who can convince Molly to face her painful secret and become the person she’s meant to be?







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Chapter 3
A shaft of sunlight cut through dark drapes and fell across my face, drilling into my retina. I groaned and slung an arm across my eyes, trying to make the sun stop it.
The bed dipped, and an arm around my waist tightened. That's when I became aware of a soft breath against the back of my neck, and a solid body curved against my side, a leg across my leg.
What the hell?
I uncovered my face and unsquinted my eyes. Dark hotel room. Dark except for that sliver of light. And a body in bed next to me. I held my breath, listening, waiting to see if the person moved or made any indication that he knew I was awake. And I say he because there was no mistaking the body part that was pressed against my hip. I guess I was now somebody's wet dream. But whose?
My thoughts raced backward as I tried to piece together last night. I remembered the funeral. And I remembered all the strangers in our house. My house, not ours. Just me now. And I remembered the lawyer saying I should meet him today. And I remembered running.
A bar.
I ended up at a bar.
I've never blacked out in my life, but I had no memory of anything past those first few drinks. Had somebody slipped me something? Or had I just drunk myself into oblivion?
Through this entire rewind, the stranger in bed had kept up a steady, light breathing with an occasional contraction of the arm that held me.
I turned my head and saw a clock. Early. 6:00 a.m. Slowly, carefully, holding my breath once again, I inched away from the body. His arm tightened, but then he let out a sigh and rolled to his back, releasing me completely.
I slipped from the bed, sliding out from under the white sheet that covered us both until I stood barefoot on the carpet to stare at the man I'd spent the night with. And apparently had sex with, because there were my panties on the floor. I picked them up with curled toes, then slipped them on under my dress as I watched the guy in the bed. Then I found my boots and stuffed my feet inside, not bothering to lace them.
No memory of him. None. Nothing. And really, he was the kind of guy a girl would remember.
Where do I start?
A beautiful boy man. Probably a few years older than me. Not that muscular. Not like somebody who lifted weights, but he was toned. More like a swimmer's body, with that kind of smooth skin that felt like satin. Nipples and an almost invisible line of hair that ran from his navel to the sheet that covered the rest of his body. The hair on his head was dark and curly, tousled over his forehead and ears. He wasn't tan. Not like somebody who was outside a lot, but he wasn't really pale either.
Strange that it was so hard to tell much about a person with no clothes. Clothes gave you clues.
Tossed on a chair was a pair of jeans, a worn leather belt that looked like he'd owned it for years, and a vintage plaid shirt.
Was he a hipster? Part of the local music scene? A student? No, a student wouldn't have a hotel room. Unless maybe he got the room for us. Yeah, that might be. Maybe he lived with a bunch of guys and he'd wanted some privacy.
Admiration time over, I slipped from the room and took the elevator to the first floor. It wasn't until I stepped outside that I realized where I was. At a hotel on the West Bank just across the river from the university, a couple of miles from my father's house.
The shock of waking up in a strange room with a strange guy had momentarily separated me from the misery of my headache, churning stomach, and the general feeling of wanting to die. But now that I was on the street, and now that exhaust fumes combined with the smell of rotten food coming from a Dumpster hit me, my stomach took a dive and my head split in two.
I had no money.
I had no credit card.
I wanted nothing more than to drop down on the curb and bury my face in my hands, but I also wanted to put some distance between me and the guy upstairs. What if he woke up? What if he was already awake? What if he came after me?
Why would he do that?
He wouldn't come after me. He'd be glad I was gone.



Later, when Molly runs into the mysterious guy again…

"I have your cell phone," he said.
I stopped mid-flight.
There it was, my iPhone in its pale blue case, looking weird in his hand. Long fingers. The vintage shirt. Shaggy hair that curled around his ears and over his forehead. He hadn't shaved. He needed to shave. What color were his eyes? Green? Hard to tell in this light.
I snatched the phone from his hand.
Before I could spin away he said, "Be sure to check the photos. I think you'll find some interesting ones." He smiled. The kind of smile I've used when someone I hate steps in a pile of shit.
"Fuck you."
"You've already done that."
* * *
In the bar I took a seat in a dark corner, ordered a beer, and pulled out my phone. I checked my texts first. There were all of the ones from Rose. A string of them asking where I was, telling me she was worried, getting more upset with each one. A few missed calls, one from the lawyer to remind me of today's appointment, a couple random ones from people at school who didn't know what had happened, asking about some group project that was due in a few days. Why wasn't I there? You need to hold up your end. That was from some girl named Alice who'd named herself project leader.
Check out the photos, Ian had said.
The beer came. I thanked the girl and ordered another. I downed the first one, then hit the photo app on my phone. And there we were. By we I mean Ian and me. I'd been worried, thinking they would be nude photos of me, or penis photos of him, or nudes of us both together. But in a weird way these disturbed me just as much or more. There were probably twenty photos in all, most taken in some booth at a bar. Both of us smiling at the camera. Me, feeding him fries. Me, drinking drinks. A lot of photos of drinks. Me, kissing Ian on the cheek. Ian not seeming to mind. Me. hanging on Ian, wrapping myself around him. The last one? I'd apparently jumped on his back and he was holding me by my legs.
And a fun time was had by all…
I wish I could remember. I especially wish I could remember the sex.





About the author: Theresa Weir (a.k.a. Anne Frasier) is an award-winning NEW YORK TIMES AND USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR of twenty-three books and numerous short stories that have spanned the genres of suspense, mystery, thriller, romantic suspense, paranormal, and memoir. Her titles have been printed in both hardcover and paperback and translated into twenty languages. Her memoir, The Orchard, was a 2011 Oprah Magazine Fall Pick, Number Two on the Indie Next list, a featured B+ review in Entertainment Weekly, and a Librarians’ Best Books of 2011. Going back to 1988, Weir’s debut title was the cult phenomenon AMAZON LILY, initially published by Pocket Books and later reissued by Bantam Books. Writing as Theresa Weir she won a RITA for romantic suspense (COOL SHADE), and a year later the Daphne du Maurier for paranormal romance (BAD KARMA). In her more recent Anne Frasier career, her thriller and suspense titles hit the USA Today list (HUSH, SLEEP TIGHT, PLAY DEAD) and were featured in Mystery Guild, Literary Guild, and Book of the Month Club. HUSH was both a RITA and Daphne du Maurier finalist. Well-known in the mystery community, she served as hardcover judge for the Thriller presented by International Thriller Writers, and was guest of honor at the Diversicon 16 mystery/science fiction conference held in Minneapolis in 2008. Frasier books have received high praise from print publications such as Publishers Weekly, Minneapolis Star Tribune, and Crimespree, as well as online praise from Spinetingler, Book Loons, Armchair Interviews, Sarah Weinman’s Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind, and Ali Karim’s Shots Magazine. Her books have featured cover quotes from Lisa Gardner, Jane Ann Krentz, Linda Howard, Kay Hooper, and J.A. Konrath. Her short stories and poetry can be found in DISCOUNT NOIR, ONCE UPON A CRIME, and THE LINEUP, POEMS ON CRIME. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and International Thriller Writers.

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Friday, October 4, 2013

Book Blast and Giveaway: Choosing You by Allie Everhart


Choosing You
(The Jade Series #1)
by Allie Everhart
Publication Date: Sept 23, 2013
Contemporary, NA, Romance

When Jade is given a scholarship to an elite private college in Connecticut, she sees it as a chance to finally escape her painful past and get a fresh start. She’s determined to succeed and that means keeping her focus on school and not guys. But her plan falls apart her first day on campus when Garret, a rich prep school boy with swimmer abs and a perfect smile, offers to help her move in.


Jade tries to push him away, but she can’t deny her attraction to him and Garret won’t let her. Things quickly heat up between them, but then come to a sudden halt when reality hits and Jade realizes that a relationship with Garret may never be possible. He comes from a world of wealth where there are rules, including rules about who he can date. And not following those rules has consequences.

As the two of them try to overcome the obstacles working to keep them apart, Jade is confronted with another challenge. On her 19th birthday, she receives a letter that her now deceased mother wrote years ago. In it are revelations that explain her traumatic childhood but also make her question the past she’s been running from.


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Excerpt from Choosing You:

He puts his phone away. “Can I come in? I’m kind of a target out here in the hall.”
“A target for what?” I ask, moving aside to let him in.
“Girls fondling me.” A smirk crosses his face as he waits for my reaction.
“Please tell me you’re kidding. Because if you’re not, then I need to start upping the insults again to bring you back down to earth.”
He’s trying hard to keep a straight face. “You saw Ava just now. Girls just can’t help themselves. What can I say?”
I shake my head and start rummaging through my drawer for a shirt. “I can help myself. I’m completely immune to whatever you think you’ve got going on over there.”
“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles. “You need some help?”
“Why? You think I can’t dress myself?”
He stands next to me, staring down at the open drawer. “Everything in here is black.”
“Yeah.” I close the drawer and open the one beneath it. “And everything in here is white.”
“Where are your other shirts?”
“That’s it. Well, I have a few in the closet.”
He walks over to look. “You only wear black or white?”
“Uh, yeah. Are you just getting that? You’ve seen me how many times and you’ve never noticed that?”
“Huh. I guess not.”
“It’s just easier that way. Black and white go with everything.” I take a black t-shirt from the drawer.
“You should wear purple sometime.”
I almost choke laughing. “Purple? Are you joking?”
“What’s wrong with purple?”
“I’ve never worn anything purple in my life. I’ve never even considered it. It’s one of those weird colors that old ladies wear.”
“Lots of people wear purple. And with your green eyes, you would look great in purple.”
“I hate my green eyes. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to them.”
He comes closer and lifts my chin up with his hand. “How could you hate your eyes? They’re the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Why do you think I’m always staring at them?”
“Yeah, that’s hilarious.” I push him back. “Now get out of here so I can change. Wait in the hall. I’ll be like two seconds.”
“Jade, you know I’m not safe out there.” He says it as if he’s really in danger. “Did you see all those girls running around in towels and robes?”
I roll my eyes. “I swear. The insults are coming, my friend. So tell your ego to get ready.”
He stands there.
“You’re really not leaving? Fine. Then turn around.”
I change into my jeans and black shirt. “Okay, I’m done.”
He inspects me. “Yeah. You definitely need some color. The black and white thing is getting old.”
“Well, I’m not planning on buying new clothes so you’ll have to get over it.” I search through my desk drawer for money. “How much are movie tickets? I haven’t been to a movie in years, so I have no clue. Six bucks? Seven?”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.”
“Garret, you’re not paying.”
“You just saved me from being man-handled by Ava. That’s at least worth the price of a movie ticket. Maybe even some popcorn, too.”


About the author: Allie Everhart writes about dating, love, and romance. She’s also a freelance writer for magazines and websites. Before freelancing, she was a book editor for a publishing company where she worked on several NYT bestselling nonfiction books. She loves to read as much as she loves to write. And when she’s not reading or writing, she’s outside running, which is when she gets her best book ideas.

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