Wednesday, May 31, 2017

New Release: Under the Cherry Tree by Lilac Mills



Chick Lit
Date Published:  05/31/2017
Only $0.99!

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“A feel-good, heart-warming, tear-jerking love story.”
The best sort of holiday read, recommended for fans of Jane Costello, Erica James, and Lucy James
“My dog didn't like men. Actually that was a lie – she didn't like the men I chose. The only ones who rocked her world had been my father (who was no longer with us), Ross (who was gay), and the butcher on the high street (for obvious reasons).
When Jenni Meadows has the opportunity to expand her dog-grooming business she takes it, and when a nice man appears on her horizon but fails to make any sparks fly, she decides she has enough on her plate with her business without adding a boyfriend into the mix. 
Besides, Millie doesn’t like him and when her dog doesn’t like a man, Jenni knows all about it. So why does Millie take a very strange liking to the new vet, especially since he has a taciturn expression, wears a wedding ring, and wields a needle? 
Under the Cherry Tree is a tale of love and hope, waggy tails, and cold noses.


Excerpt 

His name was Rupert, and that should have told me all I needed to know. Not that I’m nameist or anything, but with a name like that there was no way he came from the council estate up the road; the other kids would have decimated him! And he wasn’t a kid, not by a long stretch, not if that chest and those arms were any indication. He was tall too, like many rowers tend to be.

Rupert and I moved in entirely different circles, and I don’t know what on earth possessed me to agree to go out on a date with him, though the three glasses of white wine I’d drunk may have had something to do with it. I was drinking for two, because Amber had just that morning found out she was pregnant, and that meant I had to drink her share. Oh, and don’t forget that chest. It bulged and rippled and clung to his body like I wished I could. I only took my eyes off it long enough to make sure he didn’t have two heads. The face above a set of extremely broad shoulders looked nice enough, so I didn’t bother to check again.

But why the hell had I agreed to let him take me shooting? Who actually did something like that on a first date? Dinner, a drink, maybe a concert, ice-skating at a push – but definitely not clay pigeon shooting.

The only redeeming thing was that he told me I could bring Millie. And did I mention his chest?  If that’s what rowing did for a man, I made a vow to meet more rowers (if this one didn’t pan out).

Rupert the Rower. I should have realised, even without the accent, that he was way out of my league. He was an ex-Kings student (private school – very private, because mummy and daddy had to have a great deal of money to send their children there, and he was the youngest of three boys).

Then there was the house, or should I say, mansion. As I trundled up the gravelled drive in my little Micra, Millie panting on the passenger seat, I was under the impression this was where the shooting meet was taking place, not that Rupert actually lived there.

I pulled my ten-year-old car into a space between a brand-new Range Rover and a top-of-the-range Jag, and clambered out. Hollington Hall. Nice. I wondered if they did wedding receptions. Not that I had any plans on getting married any time soon (had to find the right guy first), but it was something to consider for the dim and distant future. At least I wasn’t like some of my friends who had picked the dress, the shoes, and the bridesmaids’ outfits, all before their sixteenth birthdays! I was merely mildly interested.

Surprisingly, for a hotel, the front door was firmly closed.

After unclipping Millie from her harness, I carried her up the steps and placed her gently on the ground between a pair of tall columns, and tried to turn the door handle. Locked.

There didn’t appear to be a bell, but there was a huge knocker in the shape of a lion’s head, so I banged it a couple of times and waited until  it was opened by an elderly woman in a pinny. She frowned at me.

‘I’m here for the shooting,’ I said.

She gave me a blank stare.

‘With some guy called Rupert? Sorry, I don’t know his last name.’ Perhaps I hadn’t got the right place either, because the large hallway behind her looked nothing like a hotel reception area. It lacked a front desk, for starters. A sleepy spaniel lifted its head and blinked, but made no move to get up. It was probably so used to guests that another one, even one with a dog, was nothing to get excited about.

‘Master Rupert,’ the woman said, issuing me with a stony stare.

‘Pardon?’

‘His name is Master Rupert Hollington.’

‘I thought Hollington was the name of this place?’

‘It is.’ She opened the grand door a little wider, and moved to the side with a sigh. ‘I’ll let him know he has a guest.’

I stepped into the hall, my eyes on stalks. Rupert Hollington of Hollington Hall. Rupert the Rower, who’d gone to Kings and had a plummy accent, and who thought taking a girl clay pigeon shooting on a first date was a good idea.

I wanted the highly polished, black-and-white tiled floor to open up and swallow me.

The maid/servant/housekeeper (I had no idea what to call her – she might be his long-suffering nanny for all I knew) stalked down the hall and disappeared through a door at the far end, leaving me to stare up at the sweeping staircase with my mouth open. The place was huge!

‘Jessie, how lovely you could make it.’ Rupert strode up to me, both hands outstretched, and moved in for a double cheek peck.

‘Jenni,’ I corrected him, mortified.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Erm…yes?’

‘Jenni it is then, though I could have sworn you told me your name was Jessie.’

‘It was noisy in the pub,’ I said, trying to make him feel better, though to be fair, he didn’t seem in the least bit fazed that he’d got my name wrong.

Never mind, it was an easy mistake to make.

‘I see you’ve brought your dog,’ he said. ‘Does it retrieve?’

I glanced down at Millie, with her white fluffy fur and pink diamante collar. ‘Not even a stick,’ I admitted, wondering why he thought a West Highland Terrier would double up as a retriever. Now if he’d asked about her ability to dig holes…

Rupert looked a little put out, but recovered quickly. ‘No bother. Just don’t let it off the lead, or it might interfere with the real dogs.’

Was he calling my dog fake? Huh! She was as doggy as any other canine.

I had a feeling this date wasn’t going to go as well as I’d hoped, especially when he asked, ‘Are your wellies in the car?’

Wellies? What wellies? Oh dear; I hadn’t thought to dress for mud, assuming my leather boots and chunky jacket would be outdoorsy enough. Clearly not. When I took the time to really look at him, I realised he was wearing a Barbour jacket and a pair of green Wellington boots. Both the jacket and the wellies were liberally spattered with mud.

‘Is the shoot in a field?’ I asked, pleased to be able to display some shooting terminology.

He gave me an odd look. ‘Where else would it be?’

Maybe I should have done a bit more research on Google. ‘I’ve never handled a gun before,’ I admitted. ‘The only thing I know about it, is that you call “pull” and then do your best to hit the thingy.’

I was unprepared for his sudden burst of laughter. ‘Oh, my dear girl, you’re priceless!’

‘Eh?’ So what if I didn’t know the correct term for those flying disk things? I’d already confessed I knew nothing about shooting.’

‘We’re shooting pheasant,’ he said, taking my arm and guiding me towards the door he had appeared from.

I pulled back. ‘Wait. What? As in real, live birds?’

He nodded.

‘Ew. No thanks.’

‘You don’t have to touch them,’ he said, giving my arm a tug.

It wasn’t the touching which bothered me – it was the killing itself. Millie, close by my side, gave a small grumble in the back of her throat, half warning, half concern, and nudged my leg with her nose. I bent to pat her, using the movement as an excuse to shake off his hand.

‘Is it friendly?’ he asked, leaning forward and holding out his fingers for her to sniff.

Millie drew back behind my legs.

‘She,’ I emphasised the word, ‘is perfectly friendly.’ And Millie promptly made me into a liar by emitting a low growl.

I tugged at her lead in annoyance, vowing to give her a good telling off later. Not that it would do any good; if a dog had to be admonished for bad behaviour, the ticking off had to take place immediately after the event, else the dog would have no idea why its owner was cross.

‘I don’t think shooting is for me,’ I said, and turned to leave. Even if Rupert suggested doing something else instead, I wasn’t sure he was my kind of guy.

Millie simply confirmed my thoughts when I glanced down at her.

She was weeing on his wellies.


About the Author

Lilac spends all her time writing, or reading, or thinking about writing or reading, often to the detriment of her day job, her family, and the housework. She apologises to her employer and her loved ones, but the house will simply have to deal with it!
She calls Worcester home, though she would prefer to call somewhere hot and sunny home, somewhere with a beach and cocktails and endless opportunities for snoozing in the sun…
When she isn’t hunched over a computer or dreaming about foreign shores, she enjoys creating strange, inedible dishes in the kitchen, accusing her daughter of stealing (sorry – “borrowing”) her clothes, and fighting with her husband over whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher.

Contact Links


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Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Book Review: The Butcher's Daughter by Mark McMillin

The Butcher's Daughter is based on a true story, the life of an Irish pirate queen in the Elizabethan era. The story is told in the first person from Mary's point of view, which gives a unique perspective on a pirate's life. Mary has her own set of rules that the crew must follow also, but she is not adverse to spilling blood when necessary.
Much of the tale is Mary telling her story to Queen Elizabeth while imprisoned in the Tower with Sir William Cecil taking notes in the background. There are many such historical incidents and people interwoven into the book which makes it all the more real. For example, the story of Sorley Boy MacDonnell watching as the English massacred his people on Rathlin Island is well known to me, and the author fits it into Mary's tale seamlessly.
The action is fast, the writing is enthralling, and this is a fine tale of pirates, history, and revenge.

Link to Amazon

Historical Romance Sale - only $.99 for the bundle

Come across time and read captivated tales of history including historical romance.
Pay only $0.99 USD and receive all 6 ebooks. Also available at KoboAmazoniBooks, and Barnes & Noble.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Book Review: Starlit by J.V. Speyer


Sahak is a rebel pilot who manages to escape from prison, taking along his co-pilot Siran and the alien Azat, before they can be executed or worse, made slaves. Azat has been treated unkindly by humans, but he's willing to take a chance in order to be free. What he doesn't count on is the attraction between the daring pilot and himself.
This is a quick but action-packed read. Sahak's backstory is interesting, but I would have liked to learn more about Azat and his people. Both the battle and sex scenes are well-written; my only real complaint is that I would have liked the book to be longer.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Trad Tuesday: The White Hare by Seth Lakeman




Seth Lakeman is an English folk singer and musician. He writes most of his own songs and The White Hare is no exception. It is written and performed in a traditional way of a song telling a story.

It is the legend of a witch on Dartmoor. She transforms into the figure of a white hare. When she is looked upon by a man, she transforms back into a person and the man will instantly fall in love with her. He will then go mad with obsession and love for the witch until the day he dies.

Lyrics:
I heard her in the valley, 
I heard her in the dead of night
The warning of a white hare 
Her eyes burning bright.

Careful you don't catch her 
Or give her right of way. 
For she will look upon you
Steal your soul away

For the white hare is calling
She's dancing in the night 
And she'll be out 'til the morning light

Out upon the heather 
A shadow came onto me 
Her hair was hanging over 
Her face I could not see

She ran behind the rocks
I heard the hounds cry 
The image of a woman 
Her head she held up high

For the white hare is calling
She's dancing in the night
She'll be out 'til the morning 
With her eyes burning bright 
The white hare is calling you

If you go hunting 
Or calling out your prey 
Or if you see a fair maid
With hair an ashen grey

Careful you don't catch her 
Or give her right of way 
For she will look upon you
Steal your soul away

For the white hare is calling
She's dancing in the night 
She'll be out 'til the morning 
With her eyes burning bright 
The white hare is calling you

Monday, May 22, 2017

Giveaway: Romance Rock Stars!






RomanceRockStars.com is hosting this giveaway. Winners must be 18 or older. United States and Canada only to ship the Kindle Fire. Otherwise, we can send the money for the kindle fire by amazon giftcard anywhere in the world. We will not sell or distribute your email address or any other information to any other company. Your information is for our blog only, to notify winners, and send prizes.





Grand Prize is a Fire Tablet with Alexa, 7" Display, 16 GB + 3 ebooks  and a second winner will receive a $10 Amazon Giftcard.


Backhand by Elise Faber


For A Little While by Mary J. Williams


Freeze Frame by Freya Barker



Contact Links

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

New Release: A Demon Summoning: Neldorailin Series by Amanda Redhead

For ages, the peoples of Neldorailin had been drawn to the Druid's Stone. Some, for the druids gathered there; some seeking healing, others, knowledge. Many stayed, and settlements were founded. And all the while, the energetic magical fields flowing beneath Neldorailin, was the essence that compelled them. 
As time passed, these shelters became villages, and the villages became a city. At the very heart of what was to become Waldheim, the Druid's Stone remained, and the sacred grove surrounding it. The Academy formed to protect the grove, and to harness the energies of the Ley lines, beneath. 
Children from miles around dreamed of coming to The Druid's Stone to learn the secrets of magic. Humans, elves, pixies, dwarves and even young dragons little more than mere hatchlings.
For Forniel, it was much more than a dream. He had been abandoned upon the Academy's steps when but a wee babe, as the abomination born of Orc and Human parentage. Learning magic was his means of obtaining respect. Yet when his tutor flatly refused to advance him in the teachings of Demonology, Forniel decided to take the matter into his own hands. The others would stop teasing him for being different when he could command such awe-inspiring and deadly power.
But in his zeal and fervour for power, Forniel makes a deadly mistake. A mistake that will imperil all of Neldorailin.

The fast-paced short story prequel to Amanda Redhead's full-length novel, "Elven Dwarf", The Demon Summoning will propel readers into the heart of the Waldheim Magical Academy where the very nexus of Neldorailin's magical lifeblood flows through the Ley lanes and the lives of those individuals who harness and protect these energies.



Saturday, May 13, 2017

Book Sale: The Blood of Dragons: Book 1 by Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd


The Blood of Dragons: Book 1

A Novel You Cannot Put Down

Drast and Tyran might be considered a bit black-hearted, or even immoral. Drast is cunning but reckless, hunting for admiration. Tyran is calculating but tactless, searching for affection. When the two brothers set aside their ambitions to fulfill their father's desire for immortality, they readily discover many opportunities for redemption. Now, while wielding a powerful magic that drains their life, Drast and Tyran will embark on a maddening quest, facing skin-switchers, dragons, and the God of the Dead.

Grab a copy today!
On sale for $.99

Bios:
Joshua Robertson was born in Kingman, Kansas on May 23, 1984. A graduate of Norwich High School, Robertson attended Wichita State University where he received his Masters in Social Work with minors in Psychology and Sociology. His bestselling novel, Melkorka, the first in The Kaelandur Series, was released in 2015. Known most for his Thrice Nine Legends Saga, Robertson enjoys an ever-expanding and extremely loyal following of readers. He counts R.A. Salvatore and J.R.R. Tolkien among his literary influences.

www.robertsonwrites.com/
@robertsonwrites

J.C. lives in the Midwest with his wife and two dogs. He recently earned his MA in English Literature and is working on his debut novel for his own fantasy world. Despite growing up with Dungeons & Dragons, Lord of the Rings, and a collection of both Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels, J.C. has an abiding love of classics and spends his free time reading anything he can get his hands on.

www.crimsonedgepress.com
@jcboyd_author

LINKS




Excerpt:

Erzebeth convulsed. Her fur and skin shedding away while she wheeled about on the ground in agony. The bones readjusted and organs reset from beast to human. Where a beast had stood was now the naked figure of Erzebeth. Cuts and scratches patterned her body, but none were fatal.
Tyran had no place for modesty. The Vucari woman, within the privacy of the ice dome, struggled to her feet. Again, her dark eyes met his own, filled with compassion.
“You need to be put down, young Red.” Her voice was calm as her feet crossed in front of one another, closing the distance between them. “Your power is greater than any I have seen before, even from the Anshedar.”
“What?” Tyran said, forehead wrinkled with confusion. He had never heard of the race before, whether beast or otherwise.
“You are like a rabid dog, young Red. You are the perfect companion, loyal, and possibly even loving somewhere deep inside,” Erzebeth bit her lip. Her breasts, barely covered by her dark hair, touched the front of his chest. She halted her feet. “But, you are tainted by a disease that is stronger than the goodness in you. You cannot be left to live in this world, or you will corrupt every living thing around you.”
Tyran tilted his chin, lips parting. His free hand touched her pale skin, as whitish as the ice fortress that veiled this moment.
“You would taint me, young Red.” She stepped up on her tiptoes. “As with the rabid dog, you need to be put down.”
He grabbed her by the back of the neck, and pulled her to him. He kissed her with more force than he had ever kissed any woman.
This woman was not Isolde. This woman was battle hardened, and a warrior. She was not plain.
She grabbed his shoulders and returned the embrace, her tongue touching his lips. Her body was far warmer than his own, as if it were heated by the darkness.
He did not know what he was doing in this moment. It may have likely been the first time that his mind was clear from thought, acting without thinking. Though, in time, he may consider that when his death was nigh, he found that this was something he wanted to do before death found him.
The crashing against the ice pulled him from the moment. Tyran pulled back, moving the Vucari’s hair from her cheek. “You won’t kill me, Erzebeth.”
“No,” she breathed. Her hands fell to his chest. “But, it still needs to be done.”

Friday, May 12, 2017

Book Review: Matchmaker Abduction by Donna McDonald

Blurb: True love is said to defy time, but can it survive space, aliens, and being abducted? Angus MacNamara and Erin O’Shea are about to find out.

The big blue planet that most call  Earth desperately needs matchmakers. There is only one small—okay, BIG—problem. No one wants the alien dating service job. No one. The original matchmakers are dead, and much worse, their DNA is no longer viable for cloning. 

Solution? Go back in time to some of Earth’s other—thankfully slower spinning—versions, and retrieve the alternates of the one couple in any universe who seems able to do the job.

Far easier said than done though, especially when the alternates are anything but a loving couple, and both are none too pleased to be thrown into the future. 
What does oil and water create? Salad dressing or a real mess of aliens, humans, and matchmaking fun!

Book Review: Angus MacNamara and Erin O'Shea are rival matchmakers in 1958 who sometimes partner together for certain cases. Angus has fulfilled a promise he made to his late wife to find spouses for all their children and now is ready to join her when he is interrupted by Erin. Then five strange men appear and whisk them away to the year 2497 in an alternate universe. Their services are needed for matchmaking various aliens.
I found the beginning of this book kind of rough. I felt it was the next book in a series and I had missed a lot of the backstory; however, this is book one. It got better and I enjoyed some of the back-and-forths between Angus and Erin. The story is a takeoff on Men in Black combined with Doctor Who and Galaxy Quest and is funny in places. But I found the story rushed and not really my cup of tea, but I can see how some readers would enjoy it.
I'd give it 3 1/2 stars rounded up to four. I am giving an honest review in exchange for a copy of the book.

Author Info: Donna McDonald published her first romance novel in March of 2011. Forty plus novels later, she admits to living her own happily ever after as a full time author. Her work spans several genres, such as contemporary romance, paranormal, and science fiction. Humor is the most common element across all her writing. Addicted to making readers laugh, she includes a good dose of romantic comedy in every book.





Contact Information

Blog:  http://donnamcdonaldauthor.com/blog/


Purchase Links

Amazon US   http://bit.ly/amz-aik1

Book Blitz: Molly Bell and the Wishing Well by Bridget Geraghty

Middle Grade
Date Published:  December 2016

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Molly Bell is an eleven-year old girl who used to be a whimsical, sporty type of a child with a zest for living. All that has been turned upside down by the untimely death of her cherished mother two years ago. To make matters worse, her father is getting remarried to a high-maintenance beauty that Molly seemingly has nothing in common with, and she comes with an annoying six-year old son, Henry, who finds a way to wreck everything in his path.
Molly can't find anything about her new circumstances to be excited about, until her Aunt Joan tells her about the wishing well at Molly's grandparents' farm. According to Aunt Joan, every wish she ever made there came true. And it just so happens that Molly and Henry will be staying at the farm for a week while their parents are on their honeymoon. Molly is convinced if she could just find that wishing well, she could wish for her mom to come back to life and everything will be okay again.
But Molly is in for a few surprises, and more that a few hard lessons about being careful what you wish for when the consequences of Molly's selfish desires wreak havoc on her entire family. Can Molly make things right again through the wishing well? Or will she need to find it within herself to bring back the joy in her life that has been missing all this time?


Excerpt

CHAPTER EIGHT

Molly was lying in bed, still as a mummy, star- ing up at the ceiling fan. The whirling of the fan and the rhythm of the ticking of the clock on the
wall should have lulled her to sleep hours ago. But sleep didn’t come easy when your mind buzzed as busy as a swarm of bees. As hard as she tried, Molly couldn’t get the thought of the wishing well out of her head.
What if Grandpa Cody’s wish didn’t come true because he didn’t believe hard enough? Didn’t Grandma Saige say that the power of a wish was be- lieving in it? What if Molly really believed as hard as she could, would it still be possible? The waiting drove her crazy. Too many questions remained un- answered. What did it look like? And why did her mom show it to her in a dream?
That was it. Molly had to find out. And now was as good a time as any, since she wouldn’t be getting any sleep anyhow.
Molly sat up, stiff and groggy, and pulled the cov- ers off of her. Luckily, the full moon outside cast a dull glow inside Aunt Joan’s room from the window. It gave Molly just enough light to find her way to her suitcase without turning on the bedroom light and risk waking anyone up.
What should she wear? Molly decided on jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. Even though it was most likely still warm and muggy out, she didn’t want the bugs pestering her. She fumbled her way through the suitcase and got dressed as quietly as possible. That was very hard to do in a mostly dark room.
But where were her sneakers? Molly’s heart sank. She had left them outside because they were muddy! Oh well, they were most likely still there. That was not a good enough reason for her to give up now.
Molly snuck the two pennies on the nightstand into her jeans pocket for safekeeping. She was ready, but not really. Molly was nervous. She didn’t yet have a plan. Oh, well, just go for it, she decided. What else was she going to do, sit up all night and think about it?
The first step would be to get out of the house undetected. Molly tiptoed to the bedroom door. She turned the knob ever so slightly. Phew, it wasn’t squeaky. Molly eased the door open and peered into the upstairs hallway.
All the other doors were closed. Molly paused to listen. It was noiseless, except for Molly’s breathing, which sounded too loud.
Molly put one foot out into the hallway to test and see if the floor was creaky. It was, a little. She imagined herself a burglar and inched across the side of the hallway, careful not to disturb any of the pictures on the wall. Her eyes adjusted to the dark- ness, but she could still see only about a foot in front of her at a time. Molly held her arms out to feel her way, relying on all her senses to maneuver down the hall.
The moonlight from the downstairs front win- dow illuminated the stairwell. She was worried about tumbling down and waking everyone up, ruin- ing her adventure. Not to mention hurting herself. So, like a fool, she sat down on the front step. And slowly, one by one, scooted down each step on her bottom until she safely reached the first floor.
Once she was downstairs, Molly looked up to make sure she was still alone. She was, and she sure felt like it. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It felt really creepy. She fought against the urge to get back upstairs and tuck herself back into bed. Maybe this would be the re- solve that was needed to show the wishing well that she really did deserve to have her wish come true. Molly steeled herself and carried on.
She would need a light for outside. Molly remem- bered that Grandpa Cody had gotten a large, bright flashlight out of the pantry in the kitchen when the power had gone out during one of her visits.
Molly crept into the kitchen. The refrigerator buzzed. Funny, she had never noticed that sound before. The light from the clock display on the stove showed her the way to the pantry. Molly eased the door open. Everything inside looked the same, mostly cans and boxes. She took a breath to give herself patience. One impulsive move could send everything flying off the shelves and cause a ruckus.
She felt around the items on the pantry shelves, her fingertips guiding her from one thing to the next. Something felt like plastic. Molly carefully re- moved it and brought it close to her. It was a large container of ketchup. Disappointed, and not sure that she should bother to keep looking, she spotted a basket on the pantry floor. Molly knelt down and felt through it. Batteries, a radio maybe, and the flashlight!
With a sigh of relief and thanks, Molly grabbed the flashlight. As much as she wanted to turn it on for help, she knew she had to wait until she was far enough away. So she clutched it next to her body and snuck out the side kitchen door, being sure to shut the door slowly and quietly.
Thank goodness, Grandma Saige had left the outside light on next to the kitchen entrance. And there were Molly’s sneakers, placed neatly on the stoop. They had been carefully cleaned, shined up to a polish. Molly smiled. Grandma Saige must have done it.
Molly pulled on her shoes and breathed in the damp nighttime air. She noticed that far off into the distance, past the vegetable garden and the fields where she was headed, it was pitch black besides the moonlit glow way up in the sky.
It was so different than nighttime in her own neighborhood. At least there were streetlights there, homes all around giving a sense of not being utterly and completely alone. Here there was no such se- curity. It was just Molly, and the sound of bugs that couldn’t be seen.
Molly stood and walked briskly past the vegeta- ble garden. She strutted with a purpose, her arms around her waist for comfort, clutching the still un- lit flashlight. She was approaching the pathway be- tween two rows of cornfields. She would follow this narrow dirt path to the end of the corn, and then she should be close.
Molly’s concentration was broken by a rustling in the cornfield beside her. She froze, her heart screaming inside of her. It could be a coyote. Or a serial killer. What a fool she was!
Her hands trembling, she pressed the button of the flashlight to turn it on, and shone it in the di- rection of the unwelcome noise. “Who’s there?” she whispered loudly, sounding more like a scared little girl than she wanted to.
A shadowy shape emerged from the cornstalks. It moved low to the ground, creeping toward her.
Molly scolded herself for going outside all alone. What kind of trouble was headed her way?

About the Author


Bridget Geraghty lives in northern Illinois with her husband and three children.  She taught elementary school for eight years before focusing on writing.  It is her sincere hope that her stories inspire and uplift the minds and spirits of her young readers.

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Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Trad Tuesday: Sumer is icumen in sung by Lumina Vocal Ensemble



Sumer is icumen in is a medieval song from the 13th century. It is usually song as a round.
It's meaning is that Summer is Coming In or Summer has arrived.

It has been sung by many groups, often choirs or madrigal singers. Richard Thompson also has a version, but I chose this lovely selection by the Lumina Vocal Ensemble.

Monday, May 8, 2017

Book Release: The Other La Boheme by Yorker Keith


Literary Fiction
Date Published:  April 2017

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The Other La Bohème is literary fiction that depicts the lives and loves of four friends who pursue opera singers’ careers in present-day New York City. Jennifer (soprano), Stephanie (mezzo-soprano), Henry (tenor), and John (baritone) met in music school in Manhattan, where they performed Puccini’s famous opera La Bohème at their graduation concert. After graduation they banded together as a group called the Dolci Quattro, pledging to support one another in their professional pursuits. Several years later, they have landed the roles of Mimi, Musette, Marcello, and Rodolfo in the nearly forgotten opera La Bohème by Leoncavallo—known as “the other La Bohème”—which is to be produced by the New York Bel Canto Opera.

Alluding to the opera form, the novel opens with an Overture, a hymn that leads into Act I. Scene 1 begins with arias and a duet sung by Henry and Stephanie in the Café Momus. Jennifer and John come in, and they congratulate each other on their new roles. Immediately, though, the thoughts of the current state of their personal lives cool their enthusiasm.

Each Scene that follows is narrated alternately by one of the four members of the Dolci Quattro. As the story unfolds, Jennifer discovers that her fiancé, Richard, an investment banker and a fiction writer, is having an affair with another woman. Stephanie struggles to find a steady love, while perturbed by a strained relationship with her father, a billionaire hedge fund manager, who abandoned her late mother. Henry faces a pressure from his family to renounce his bohemian life for a more respectful career as he meets his new love, Christine, a poet. John receives a summons for divorce from the lawyer of his wife Michelle, a painter.

Set in the rich artistic backdrop of New York City, as the novel proceeds from Act I to Act II, Act III, Intermezzo, and Act IV, the Dolci Quattro’s lives and loves go through ups and downs in joy and despair, while true to their pledge they give one another much-needed moral support. As the opening night nears, the Dolci Quattro make their utmost efforts to perfect their singing for the opera that will determine their future.


Other Books by Yorker Keith

Publisher: BookBaby
Published: April 2016
Literary Fiction


Remembrance of Blue Roses follows a man and a married couple in New York City, whose intricate relationship oscillates among friendship, love, love-triangle, and even obsession. Its romantic ambience is interwoven with classical music, opera, art, family legend, and international affairs, illuminating the lives of international civil servants at the United Nations and the UN peacekeeping mission in Sarajevo, and those with direct experience of the Israel-Palestinian conflict and the Holocaust.




About the Author


Yorker Keith lives in Manhattan, New York City. He holds an MFA in creative writing from The New School. His literary works have been recognized four times in the William Faulkner–William Wisdom Creative Writing Competition as a finalist or a semifinalist.

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Sunday, May 7, 2017

Book Review: Wounded Love by Marianne Rice

This is a wonderful addition to the Rocky Harbor series. I've been waiting for Colton's story; I love second-chance romances.
Colton is home after ten years in the marines because he lost part of his leg in Afghanistan. He ends up doing some handyman work for Ellie, the woman who won the inn in the essay contest, and also the woman who broke his heart ten years ago. Both are shocked to see each other.
There have been many changes in both their lives, not the least of which is CJ, Ellie's son. CJ is an adorable scamp despite some of his health issues.
Colton is a strong, silent hero which provides for some communication issues with Ellie. Ellie is also strong in her own way; she's come a long way from the rich girl who Colton first fell in love with.
Wounded Love is a great story, whether as a stand-alone or as part of this series. I can't wait for the next book.

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Friday, May 5, 2017

Book Review: Inspired by Art: The Last Concubine by Uvi Poznansky


The David Chronicles is a series of short books that tell the story of King David from his fight with the giant Goliath to his old age where he is warmed by the concubine, Abishag. It is told through the medium of art: paintings, sculpture, etchings, coins, stamps and other works. There are poems and Bible verses to accompany each artwork and they are selected in the order that tells the particular story.
I've started with the ending book, Inspired by Art: The Last Concubine which tells the story of Abishag, a beauty selected to sleep with David in his old age. There is nothing sexual going on, just an attempt to figuratively validate the king's potency as ruler of ancient Israel. The author has selected an interesting collection of art from the masters to much lesser known works. It is an interesting (and new to me) way to tell a story like this in book form.
My only quibble is that I wished there had been a blurb that gave a short version of the story for those not familiar with this part of King David's life. I understand that these are companion books to the author's historical novels, so readers of those books would have been more knowledgeable. I found this an interesting new way to tell an old story.