Let’s Talk: A Story of Autism and Friendship by Lisa Jacovsky – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Lisa Jacovsky will be awarding signed copies of both her children’s books and four kinds of stickers (two of each book) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banners to see the other stops on the tour.

Harper, a seven-year-old little girl that is typically developing, loves going to the pool. One day when she gets to the pool, she meets a new friend, a little girl who is also seven years old . She has no idea that this friend is any different than her. All Harper knows is she has a new friend that wants to play in her tube with her. They both love to swim at the pool and want to play together however, Emma has little communication skills. Emma can make sounds and not words and flaps her hands when she is excited. When Harper realizes she cannot communicate with her new friend she becomes determined to find a way to. In talking to her mom, Harper is told that Emma has Autism Spectrum Disorder. Determined to not let this stand in the way of her new friendship she becomes determined to learn how to communicate with Emma. She begins to learn about Autism Spectrum Disorder and asks Emma’s mom to show her the different ways she can communicate with her new friend. Harper becomes excited to begin to use her new tools to communicate with Emma. The two become inseparable from that day on. Harper introduces Emma to all her friends and teaches them how to communicate with her. Harper and Emma become the center of their circle of friends and begin to have many more adventures together.

About the Author:Lisa Jacovsky currently is a Doctoral Level student at the Chicago School of Professional Psychology. She is excited for the possibilities having her Doctoral degree will bring her. She has been in the field of ABA since 2014 where she began her career working with adults in residential group homes. She moved onto working with children with an Autism Spectrum Disorder in 2018 and is currently working in Early Intervention. It is her experience with children that inspired her to finally fulfill her dream of writing a book. Lisa began writing short stories when she was seven years old. Writing is a passion for her and one of the many things she enjoys. Lisa lives in New Jersey where she enjoys spending time with family and friends, traveling, and working on the next stories of the Rascal Cat brothers silly shenanigans.

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Tiger Stripes by Hannah Renae – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Hannah Renae will be awarding a $100 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Four psychiatric wards

Three rehabs

Two jail cells

And a suicide attempt…

Hannah was told she would not make it to 25 with the way she was living. She had struggled with mental illness her entire life, but at 22 her demons came to a head at the grips of severe substance abuse, life-changing trauma, and two major deaths in her life.

Hannah’s struggles land her places no one ever hopes to grace; jail and psych wards lead her to the brink of death. Running out of options she’s left with two choices: live or die. This heart-wrenching memoir combines recovery with bittersweet romance told in a raw presentation that immerses the reader into the author’s dark state-of-mind in every page.

Tiger Stripes is going to add a valuable voice to the conversation about women’s mental health issues.

Enjoy an Excerpt

THE LETTER H

October 7, 2019

“HENRY! HENRY! HENNN-RYYYY!!!!”

I am screaming at the top of my lungs and can feel my throat tearing, becoming raw. I don’t know how many times I have said his name now, but it is all I know how to do because nothing is making any sense.

I am in a locked room and flashes of images are going through my head, but there is only one thing, one thought that I can focus on, that is pounding through my brain throughout this confusion and that is pouring out of my lungs to the point that my chest feels like it is going to rip.

“HENRY!” I choke on his name and a sob.

He cannot hear me, and he is not coming. He doesn’t know where I am and I don’t know where I am, but I know I am not supposed to be here—and I have to get out.

I beat at the metal door that barricades me from something unknown and choke on words that begin with H.

“HENRY!”

“HELP!”

“HENRY!”

“HELP!”

I repeat these words for what feels like a lifetime, until I forget how to speak and my begging turns to carnal screaming—shrieking.

No one comes. No one answers. I wait for footsteps, for the sound of the door unlocking, but all I can hear is the sound of my frantic breaths and the echoes of a lamentation that is anything but human.

I look down at my body. My feet are bare against the concrete floor; I cannot feel them. The jean shorts I am wearing show off my slender, scratched legs and remind me that I am small and feeble at this moment, but in an act of desperation, I put all of my faith in the power of momentum and I run. I fucking run as fast as I can from the three paces it takes to get from the wall to the ominous looming, locked door and attack it with my entire being, letting out my most vicious battle cry as I fumble towards it.

The door wins.

I try again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I am degraded to a crumbling, bruised ball of flesh.

I can barely speak, my throat reduced to sandpaper.

Everything hurts and I can taste the bitterness of blood in my mouth. The floor is like ice against my bare legs. Through the tears in my eyes I see the moon shining through a window at the top of the room. It is full and brilliant and illuminates the white of the brick walls that surround me. I realize that there is writing on them. People have been here before me. People will be here after me. Why am I here though? I should not be.

I should be home, where I belong. In bed, with him. Safe. I feel anything but that word in this moment, as terror sweeps through every single one of my nerves.

I whisper in one last futile attempt:

“Henry?”

But there is silence. Horrible, deafening, fatal silence.

And it seems to last forever, until I hear it, or think I do. A click, the door unlocking, and the small room is suddenly filled with light. Fluorescence suffocates me.

When I dare to open my eyes, they do not find Henry. Instead I find a police officer looking back at me. He wears broad, black framed glasses that are too big for his face and he looks eerily familiar. A sudden memory of lying in a hospital bed comes to me but does not fully resonate. His face is forlorn and almost disappointed, as if he expected more out of me.

“I thought you were going to hurt yourself,” he tells me. “Promise you’ll stay calm and you can come out for a bit. We’ve got to get you fingerprinted.”

It’s then that I have the shattering realization that I am drunk and in a holding cell at a police station. The reason why escapes me though, as I try to grab onto flashes of sober memories but drown in my current state-of-mind.

I try to breathe with intent as I remember every single arrest-cliché in the book, and I cling to the fact that I am going to get my phone call. They will probably let me go—they have to. If anything, they will make me stay the night at the most.

I remember the silent promise I had once made myself—that the moment I got a DUI that I would put down the bottle for good. Jail was the worst it could get. It had been my crowning achievement at my last three rehabs that I had never graced the inside of a jail cell and I never planned to.

“Continue down the path you have been,” one of the staff members at my second treatment center had told me after sharing her own story about prison, “and jail is a guarantee.”

And here I am. Her words have come to pass, as promised.

I then remember what else she told me as we talked over a pack of Marlboro Reds on a warm Orange County night.

“Finish the 90 days,” she had said, “Or you will not make it and there will come a day where you will no longer be able to cry out ‘I’m a good person!’. You will lie. You will steal. You will become someone and something else. You will hurt everyone you love. You will lose everything, and just when you think you have lost it all, you will lose something else.”

About the Author:

If there is anything Hannah believes in, it’s hope, but that wasn’t always the case. For a long time, chaos was comfortable for Hannah, but at just 22 she would have to make her hardest decision yet: was life really worth living? Since picking up a pen Hannah has had a love for writing, and as an adult it would become her greatest tool in healing from an almost decade-long battle with severe mental illness and substance abuse. Her first book, Tiger Stripes, is a harrowing, raw telling of her year in and out of hospitals, treatment centers, and jail that finally led her on the road to recovery and freedom.

Hannah was born in Orange County, CA but has lived in the Los Angeles area for several years. She now lives in West L.A. with her boyfriend. When she is not writing she can be found reading, running, cooking, or finding the best vegan eats in L.A.!

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Success is in Your Hands, Follow your Successful study tips by Christine Reidhead – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Christine Reidhead will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Success is in Your Hands, Follow your Successful study tips

Students face many issues, and competing things make concentrating on studying hard. However, there is a need to do a little studying at least to progress. For better grades, there is a need to develop and follow successful study tips. It is about studying smarter.

There are different types of study habits that it is not easy to figure out the good to bad ones on starting your college days.

First, to begin with, bad habits disempower students.

1. Procrastination
Studying for exams is stressful. Fear appears on your face and dreams. Thus, everyone starts stalling by spending time in some other activity. It can be on Facebook or anything else, it is just procrastinating.
• Instead, adopt better time management habits by preparing to-do lists and checking up on your progress.

2. Wrong place
A place where you fall asleep is not the right place for you to study, such as your bed or couch. Also, avoid places with a lot of distractions.
• Instead, choose the right place to concentrate and learn.

3. Turn distractions on
It may be fun to study even while your Facebook is on or in front of the TV, but the fact is you cannot do much.
• Instead, reward yourself by allocating some time to social media or TV after studying for a specific time or on completing a portion.
•
4. Studying one night before
There may be times you passed a few tests studying the night before the test. For a deeper understanding and higher grades, devoting, attention, and a lot of time is a must.
• Instead, write the main points and review them in the morning after breakfast. Best is taking a break before a test, walk or listen to music.

Good study habits to succeed
• Plan your time- Getting overwhelmed is easy with everything in college. But it is a must to have a course plan. Study every week, the entire material. Even then, something unexpected may come, and it may take a longer time to complete.

• Set goals- Developing this habit is helpful. You can study every week and set study goals. It can be the number of chapters, mastering a skill, understanding a challenge better, or even spending more time on studies than checking Facebook.

• Ask for help- It is easier to seek help so that you accomplish your set goals. There are different types of study habits, frame your type.

• Reward yourself- Encourage yourself by rewarding, it is positive reinforcement. It can be eating ice cream, watching a show, or sleeping.

The successful study tips are the ones that benefit you!

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HalfBreed Warrior by Bobbi Smith – Spotlight and Giveaway

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It was said that only the bravest warrior could ride the phantom stallion that ran fee on the Texas plain…

The Legend of The Hawk

With Comanche blood flowing through his veins, Hawk always knew he was different. Everywhere he went, people scorned him, feared him, hated him – and he expected the same when he hired on at the Lazy S Ranch to help catch rustlers. What he didn’t expect was a woman like Randi. Her impulsive spirit and generous heart broke through his reserve and made him want to love again. But he couldn’t afford to get close to anyone. Not with the job he had to do.

The Will of the Lady

Randi Stockton grew up around rough cowboys on her father’s ranch. None had managed to win her love…until the mysterious stranger with the power to tame the legendary wild horse strode into her life. Randi knew he was a half-breed, but something about him called to her. And he was the only one who could save her from the traitor at the Lazy S. The danger lurking in the shadows and canyons threatened to draw the two apart, but Randi knew in her heart that Hawk would always be her Half-Breed Warrior.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Go, Angel!” Randi Stockton urged her palomino to a faster pace. She’d just caught a glimpse of the fabled phantom stallion on a rise in the distance and was determined to give chase. Legend had it that only the finest of warriors would ever be able to catch him, and it seemed there was truth to the story. No one had even come close in all these years.

Randi was concentrating on her quest, when suddenly Angel tensed and altered her pace. Puzzled, Randi glanced around. It was then she caught sight of another rider pursuing her. Terror seized her. The bare-chested man coming after her looked like a Comanche warrior. Any thoughts of finding the phantom stallion were gone. She had to escape.

Hawk’s ride that morning to the Lazy S Ranch had been a long, hot one, so when he saw the clear-running stream, he’ decided to stop for a while and cool off. He’d just stripped off his shirt and started to wash when he’d seen the young boy on a runaway horse in the distance. Certain the youth was in trouble, he’d mounted up and charged after him. He just hoped the boy didn’t get thrown before he could reach him.

Randi glanced back again, only to find the warrior was even closer. Desperate, she veered off to the right, but in an instant, he was upon her.

“Help!” she cried as he dragged her out of her saddle. Desperate to break free, she fought with all her might, but his strength was overpowering. She was trapped, pinned against his hard, powerful chest.

Hawk struggled to control his mount as he shifted his grip on the youth, and it was then that a shock of pure physical awareness jolted through him. Suddenly, he realized this was not boy he’d rescued. This was a woman!

About the Author:After working as a department manager for Famous-Barr, and briefly as a clerk at a bookstore, Bobbi gave up on career security and began writing. She sold her first book to Zebra in 1982.

Since then, Bobbi has written over 40 books and 6 novellas. To date, there are more than five million copies of her novels in print. She has been awarded the prestigious Romantic Times Storyteller Award and two Career Achievement Awards. Her books have appeared on the New York Times Best Seller List, the USA Today Best Seller List and the Wal-Mart Best Seller List.

The rights to Ms. Smith’s books have been sold to China, France, Germany, India, Israel, Russia and Sweden. Bobbi has also written two faith-based contemporary novels – Haven and Miracles – using the pseudonym Julie Marshall.

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How to Handle Negative Criticism by R.W. Buxton – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. R.W. Buxton will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

How to handle negative criticism

Negative criticism, or any criticism for that matter, is hard. I’ve poured my heart and soul into the words that make up these books. Not to take it personally is difficult. I try to take two things into consideration, the source of the criticism, and can I use it constructively.
Reviews on Amazon for example can be terribly difficult because they are generally short and offer little in the way of constructive feedback. Either the reader liked it or didn’t. Although when the review starts off with, “This isn’t my usual genre…” and then something negative, I don’t worry much about it. The likelihood they would have enjoyed any book in the genre is low. If you read westerns, what’s the chance you will like an urban fantasy with a little romance? If they start off with that and love the book, then I feel it’s a true win.

A few years ago a blogger reviewed Capital Thirst. The review was less than outstanding. It was evident they tried to put a positive spin on it, but with things like “I hated the main characters,” it’s pretty evident they didn’t enjoy it. In my defense, I purposely made them both very prickly. I wanted the gulf between them to be as difficult to traverse as possible. In retrospect, maybe I made it too vast.

This, though, was a criticism I could use. I obviously couldn’t go back and rewrite Capital Thirst, but I kept this in mind as I wrote Beverly Hills Torture and Moscow Nights. Erin and Gerry are still worlds apart, but it’s with more understanding. This change is also a part of their character arcs. I didn’t just change their personalities, but as they spend more time together, they both soften to the others’ viewpoints.

Then there is the utterly useless criticism, “It was awful because there were three grammar errors.” Or something else along those lines. These I basically ignore. Although I would like to write back, you try writing sixty-thousand words with no grammar errors. Especially when they have them in the review of less than twenty words. These I just ignore. I work with an amazing editor and given my propensity to misuse commas, I’m pretty pleased with three that slip past the two of us.

Criticism is going to happen anytime you put yourself out there and share a part of yourself. I try to minimize its impact and ignore things that I can’t change. If there is anything at all that can be used from the criticism, I try to take it into consideration as I continue to write. Writing is a never ending learning process and the only way to get better is to accept some of that criticism and use it to your advantage. I’m not going to change the way I write, but I will certainly use it to make my writing better.

Erin is desperate to save Gerry from shadowy forces that would do anything to prevent him from fulfilling the prophecy. But when she arrives, he’s with another woman and the worst thing is it’s Tina, his former partner at the FBI.

Can she convince him the threat is real, and not just to him, but Mary his young daughter.

Halfway around the world ominous figures hiding in the night plan the unthinkable and Gerry is the only one that can stop them. The threat is genuine but will he believe her? Will he believe in the prophecy?

Erin must face her own past, a past she thought was over. It opens old wounds that send her careening on a path of destruction. Can she overcome them in time to save Gerry or will she lose everything because of a deep-rooted hurt that can’t be healed?

Enjoy an Excerpt

“How am I a threat? I didn’t even know about any of this.” Gerry turned his palms upward in his lap.

“First, he knows of you and found you, the reason we had to flee, but he has set himself up as the one to fulfill the prophecy. It’s simple, there can’t be anyone to threaten his position.”

“So, what, we’re going to just meet with him and tell him I’m not who he thinks I am?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Erin looked over her shoulder at Mary, already asleep despite her claim, curled up in the large tan leather seat. She looked back at Gerry. “You already have a huge base of supporters, and he can’t have that. He wants complete control.”

“But…”

“But there’s even more. He wants to bring us out of the shadows of night and enslave humanity. He’s perverted the prophecy. His idea of saving our race is to destroy humanity, which would ultimately destroy us. The true savior will save us from destruction, his destruction.”

Gerry blew through his teeth, making a small whistling noise. “So what you’re saying is we have to find this guy and destroy him before he kills me?”

About the Author:I love a good paranormal read, something about the un-dead haunts the fringes of my mind. Mix in romance, love, loss, and you have a great story.

I voraciously read everything, fiction, and non-fiction but always find myself turning back to the darker stories. I’ve always wanted to write and the dream became a reality with Capital Thirst, and the remainder of the Erin Kingsly novels.

I spend most of my days designing and building websites, but my free time is devoted to my wife, family, and cats. Yes three grown children and three cats. Things can be hectic.

For fun you might find me driving winding roads with the top down or out photographing nature.

Website | Twitter | BookBub | Goodreads | All Author

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What Kind of Writer Am I? by Dianne Hartsock – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Dianne Hartsock will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What kind of writer am I?
I’ve often been asked if I’m a plotter or a panster when I write. Do I painstakingly plot out my stories? Write elaborate character bios? Know every step my characters will take to reach their goal?

Or am I a panster? Put my characters on the page and let them run nilly willy through the storyline doing anything they like. Let them take control and herd them like cats to the finish line.

The truth is that I’m somewhere in between. Long before I put a word on the page, I’m daydreaming about my story. Anything may have inspired me: lyrics to a song that touched me, someone’s eyes, a laugh heard across the room. A line from a movie or a flower or sunset. What ever it was, it set my imagination off and running. I begin with my characters. Who would be in this scene or feel this emotion or enjoy this sunset? Who are they with? Who would not want them to find happiness?

I muse on these characters, expanding from this initial scene. How did they get here? Where are they going? What do I want this story to be about? I write in many genres: erotic romance, paranormal, fantasy, crime, psychological thriller. What would be the best storyline for these characters? What would be the best way to tell their story?

I ponder these questions for a day or a week, trying out different ideas as I go about my regular day. And then suddenly it comes to me. I have the perfect plot for them. By this time most of the characters have introduced themselves to me, their backstory, names, etc. I’ll have a rough idea of the beginning, middle, and ending, and also the pivotal scene, the one that brings meaning to the whole thing.

At this point I’ll start to write, and probably spend more time writing the first few paragraphs then the whole rest of the book put together. These paragraphs are crucial as they set the tone for the remainder of the story. And that opening scene is probably the one I rewrite the most. If I don’t catch a reader straight off the bat, they’ll probably put the book down and move on to the next one that catches their interest.

Once I have the opening scene down (and yes, I’ve actually thrown the whole first chapter of a story away, once the story was completed. It happens) I write the story in a linear way. Each scene builds on the one before it. I’ve never been able to skip and scene and go back to it later. No, not even a sexy times scene. And once I start writing, I try not to think of the story too much when I’m busy with other things. There’ve been times when I find the perfect words while at work, but once I’m at the computer they’re gone or I don’t write the scene as well.

Once the story is completed I’ll read through it two or three times, fine tuning and finding all the mistakes I can before I send it out to seek its fortune.

Thanks for stopping in! I’m curious, what kind of writer are you?

Luka makes a desperate wish and the earth shifts to his will. Regretting it immediately, he tries to undue the sorcery, but it is too late. He asked for hope, and to his horror, all the hope in the world is given into his keeping. He desires nothing more than to return this gift to the world.

Aethan wants to get his hands on the Well of Hope in Luka’s keeping. If he can ransom out hope to others at his whim, the world will be at his feet. Where it belongs.

With the aid of his lover, Rhys, Luka stays one step ahead of Aethan. But Rhys has his own enemy in Aethan, his estranged father.

Rescued by Luka, his sweet, gentle witch, Rhys now stands with him against Aethan. They have vowed to return the Well of Hope to the earth despite all odds, or die trying. For what is life worth, for anyone, without hope?

Enjoy an Excerpt

He missed his lover, though he’d been the one to send him away. Luka had wanted him to find a better life than he could offer, a solitary witch bartering his potions. And he had wanted Rhys safe from his enemies. But he may as well have cut out his own heart when Rhys had left.

Luka sipped his tea, enjoyed its comfort, then heat flushed his skin as he recalled his dream last night, the feel of Rhys in his bed. Rhys had been tender and passionate and welcoming. Luka had cried in his arms, overwhelmed with the joy of it. Had wept again on waking to find himself alone on the hearth, Rhys across the room, reading a book in the morning light spilling through a window, as far away as the years that had separated them.

A bird fluttered past, calling his attention, and Luka’s spirit flew with it, soaring into the sky. The rush of air exhilarated him, and he dropped with a smile back into his body. After hastily setting aside his tea, he pulled a crystal from a pocket and held it up to the faint winter sunlight. He marveled at the earth reflected in glass. Focusing his gaze, his essence slipped easily into the encapsulated world and flew along the pathways, flitting between trees and brush. He scampered with a family of squirrels along a branch, leaping with wild glee from limb to limb.

About the Author:Dianne is the author of m/m romance, paranormal suspense, fantasy adventure, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

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Character Creation by Geoffrey Saign – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Geoffrey Saign will be awarding a $30 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Character Creation

When I write, I tend to fall in love with my characters—in a writerly way of course! When I first began writing, I had a very difficult time killing off a character in a story. Even the bad villains! I enjoyed them and didn’t want to see their story end. This was especially true for support characters. Some of the minor characters have major roles. In fact, some could have their own story!

If that is not true for your own writing, you might want to ask yourself why? If the writer loves supporting characters, there’s a good chance that readers will too. They will eagerly await the next dialogue or action from that character. They want to see what they do next. In fact, one could make the case that without supporting characters, the main character just isn’t as strong or interesting. It’s the supporting cast that allows the main character to shine, to be interesting, to show off.

So how do you make characters lovable to the reader? How do you make supporting characters as interesting as the main character? In my fantasy and thriller novels, I have many supporting characters, and many of them I absolutely enjoy every time they appear in the story.

Supporting characters should be:

• Interesting—something unique to them.
• Have desires and goals like every character.
• Be sympathetic—the reader needs to understand why they are the way they are.
• Have a significant effect on the story and on the main character—otherwise why have them?
• Show vulnerability at some level.
• Have some mystery or surprise about them—for you and the reader.

In the 4th book of Magical Beasts; Guardian The Stand, I have an ancient super-powerful Great One called. She can kick anyone’s butt. Yet she shows concern for the main character, even though she also is threatens the main character. The main character ‘gets’ to Valera—and in a sense helps wake her up. This supporting character Valera only appears in short scenes 5 times in the entire book, yet she is one of my most beloved characters that I have ever created. And she is absolutely essential to the main character and to the story. Without her, there is a hole in the story that would be difficult to fill. I absolutely adore Valera! Lol

If you can make the supporting cast shine, then the main character will have that much more substance, and the main character won’t have to shoulder the whole ‘interest’ burden for the reader. In my thriller novels, I have a very bad killer, Angel, and his sister, who both reform. Angel appears in the 2nd and 5th Jack Steel books (Steel Assassin, and Steel Trap). Angel’s journey is so interesting that he could absolutely have his own book. Yet because he is 100% tied to the main character’s journey, he becomes absolutely essential to the story, something the main character even acknowledges at the end of book 5, where he makes his latest appearance.

Make your supporting cast as interesting as the main characters, and you will have a rich tapestry of a story. One that the readers will love. Plus, it’s a lot more fun to write when you are in love with every character too!

Samantha and Jake fight to save their poisoned parents, and instead find themselves in a battle to save the parallel magical world of KiraKu. The two teens discover they must defeat the Evil One—a diabolical master of deception—or their own world will fall too. Samantha must master the mysterious supernatural staff, WhipEye, and find out if she has what it takes to fulfill the prophecy of the true guardian. In a final battle, reminiscent of Lord of the Rings, the two teens will have to risk everything, or lose it all. For Fans of Fantastic Beasts, Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, The Hobbit, and Lord of the Rings.

Winner Outstanding YA Fiction IAN BOTY

~ Magical Beasts is now in development for a major motion picture. ~

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Watch out, Sam!” yells Jake.

I fling myself sideways onto the grass, pulling WhipEye out of reach of the lizard’s snapping jaws. The beast keeps going, leaping up.

Tarath springs vertically after it, but the Komodo’s flapping wings lift it fifty feet in one beat, inches beyond the caracal’s swinging claws. Tarath falls back to the ground, landing silently on the grass. She snarls up at the Komodo.

Hissing, the lizard hovers above us. His eyes bore into mine. “If you want to save your elders, bring the staff to Gorgon. Today. Alone. Or they die.” Shifting his gaze to Tarath, he says, “We’ll meet again, Great One.”

Tarath yowls while the Komodo quickly flies away, giving a faint roar before it fades in the distance.

“Mom.” Jake rests his hand on his mother’s shoulder. She appears unconscious.

Scrambling over the lawn to Dad, I press trembling fingers against his neck. He has a pulse. Jagged cuts on his thighs have darkened his jeans with blood. The same ugly slashes mark Cynthia’s legs. The wounds appear serious enough for stitches, but not life-threatening. In fact, when I examine Dad’s cuts closer, they’ve already stopped bleeding. Komodo bites can be deadly due to venom, but I’m not sure about claw wounds.

Jake looks bewildered. “Why didn’t you give the staff to the Komodo, Sam?”

My throat thickens. “I couldn’t.” It sounds lame, even to me. With one decision everything in my life is in shambles. And I have no one to blame but myself.

Tarath surprises me when she shrinks to five feet tall while padding toward us. Lowering her head between our parents, she sniffs the air. “Poison,” she spits.

About the Author:Geoffrey Saign’s love of wildlife led him to write the award-winning fantasy series, Magical Beasts. He often experiences the magic of nature and wildlife while hiking and swimming. He has a degree in biology and has assisted in field research on hummingbirds and humpback whales. Geoff loves to sail big boats, hike, and cook—and he infuses all of his writing with his passion for nature. As a swimmer he considers himself fortunate to live in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, Minnesota. See what he’s up to at hes website:

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Book 1 will be FREE April 12-18 and Book 2 will be only 99c April 12-16

Check out the series on Amazon.

Buy Book One: Guardian: The Choice at Audible.

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Forging Monsters Pt. 1 by Annie James – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A modern and beautiful Frankenstein’s Monster fights for the right to carve her own destiny in the human world of New York City.

A talented young dancer tired of witnessing violent crimes against women go unpunished and takes matters into her own hands.

A young woman tries to escape her past in the anonymity of New York but finds out that she cannot escape the scars on her soul, which drives her to shocking acts of violence.

Watch for Forging Monsters Part 2, coming soon.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“This body looks as if it has been chewed on–the edges of the throat lacerations are ragged and similar to a previous body that was brought in bearing the same type of teeth marks. A computer 3D model of the wounds on the second body, in front of me, determined the wounds to be made by the teeth of a large canine. However, The DNA test of the saliva left behind has been inconclusive.”

Dr. Violetta paused the tape recorder. “I have never seen anything like it,” she said to her assistant Andrew. “Take a look at the slide I have on the microscope. You’ll see.”

Andrew studied the cells on the microscope and wrote some notes in his typical scrawl that only he could read while Dr. Violetta started recording again.

“Cells separated from a human body die in moments. These cells scraped from the saliva on this body’s wounds have continued to divide and multiply, indicating that the cells are still living. Also, the DNA strands continually rearrange their structure without any outside influence. This is why it has proved impossible to conclusively determine which type of animal caused the damage to this body.” She stopped the recorder.

“This has to be kept out of the media,” she whispered, shaking her head in horrified disbelief.

“Where did this one come from?” Andrew asked, looking up from the microscope.

“He was found in Central Park.”

About the Author:Annie is the author of the Tales of Origen series and several short stories. She lives in Kentucky with her husband and two fun-loving cats who inspired the feline characters Dirtbag and Scumbucket. She has an adult daughter who is also a writer, and a grandson. Her influences and favorite writers include:

Frank Peretti
Mary Wollencroft Shelley
Apryl Baker
Dean Koontz
Alexandre Dumas
Linda Joyce
Mary Ramsey
Lance Sheridan poetry

She has lived in New York and Louisiana and loves Cajun cooking. She has had several people tell her that she should open a restaurant, but she loves writing too much to make time for it—running a restaurant is a TON of work. She has an associate degree in Administrative Assistance, majoring in writing, and business administration.

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She’s the One Who Cares Too Much by S.R. Cronin – Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. S. R. Cronin will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Coral, the second of seven sisters, has been hiding her affair with the perfect man until her older sister can get her life together. But the perfect man is getting impatient and now she’s gotten pregnant. Coral decides it’s time to consider her own happiness.

But what does she want? The perfect husband turns out to be less than ideal. She adores the small children she teaches but the idea of being a mother fills her with joy. Meanwhile, her homeland is gripped by fear of a Mongol invasion and she can’t stop crying about everything now that she’s with child.

Then a friend suggests the ever-caring Coral possesses a power well beyond what she or anyone else imagines. Does she? And why is the idea so appealing?

When Coral’s big sister loses faith in the army and decides to craft a way to use magic to save Ilari from the Mongols, she decides Coral’s formidable talent is what the realm needs. Can Coral raise a baby, placate an absent military husband who thinks he’s stopping the invasion, and help her sister save her homeland?

Enjoy an Exclusive Excerpt

When Ryalgar arrived at the farm a few days before my wedding, I was happy to have someone to talk to about something other than the upcoming ceremony.

I hung up the freshly washed bedding as she rode up with Sulphur. Once she gave Sulphur her horse to tend to, she hurried over to me, standing behind billowing the sheets with me so we could talk privately for a few minutes as the smell of fresh soap surrounded us

“I’ve learned more about luskies for you,” she whispered, even before she greeted me.

“There’s no need for that.” My reply was cold. Of all the things we needed to talk about, this power I didn’t have was low on the list.

“I’m not so sure. There’s a persistent rumor that we Velka can recognize a luski, but it’s not true. It takes another luski to tell. And it takes another to train a new luski, too.”

“Okay. Why would this matter to me?”

“Because your friend could be right. I’ve learned not all luskies are mothers, at least not in the real sense of the word. The rare man has this talent. A few childless women do, too. It has to do with being a nurturer.”

“So ….”

“So one way to know if you have the talent is to examine how you feel about it. If the idea maybe scares but excites you, odds are good your reaction is for a reason. What I’m saying is based on what I’ve learned, I was wrong. You really could be a luski.”

Just hearing Ryalgar admit to me she’d been wrong was quite an event in our relationship. Yet, this was hardly the time to focus on that.

“I’m getting married in three days. I don’t need this now.”

She gave me a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to do anything about it. I’m looking for a luski to talk to you. They’re hard to find; most go to extraordinary pains to hide what they can do. But I’ll find one.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Thanks. I think.”

About the Author:Sherrie Cronin is the author of a collection of six speculative fiction novels known as 46. Ascending and is now in the process of publishing a historical fantasy series called The War Stories of the Seven Troublesome Sisters. A quick look at the synopses of her books makes it obvious she is fascinated by people achieving the astonishing by developing abilities they barely knew they had.

She’s made a lot of stops along the way to writing these novels. She’s lived in seven cities, visited forty-six countries, and worked as a waitress, technical writer, and geophysicist. Now she answers a hot-line. Along the way, she’s lost several cats but acquired a husband who still loves her and three kids who’ve grown up just fine, both despite how odd she is.

All her life she has wanted to either tell these kinds of stories or be Chief Science Officer on the Starship Enterprise. She now lives and writes in the mountains of Western North Carolina, where she admits to occasionally checking her phone for a message from Captain Picard, just in case.

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Mom and Dad’s Martinis by Jacelyn Cane – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jacelyn Cane will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Jacelyn Cane’s mom and dad liked their martinis dry: straight gin on the rocks with a dab of vermouth and a hint of water – and they liked them often. They also liked to party; they danced, socialized, and drank – they were good at all three. Sometimes this behaviour led to humorous situations – antics in the pool, at the club, the cottage or in the car, for example. Other times, however, the experiences were not so funny – family fights and times of neglect, trauma, and abuse. By weaving together a series of episodes that take the reader to light and dark places, author Jacelyn Cane tells a poignant cautionary tale for anyone affected by alcoholism and/or family struggles. The author is using a pseudonym and most of the names in the book have been changed to protect people’s identities. “Mom and Dad’s Martinis: A Memoir” is a great read for anyone who has experienced a childhood mixed with joy as well as sorrow. It is a story of love, acceptance, forgiveness, and hope.

Enjoy an Exclusive Excerpt

I am allergic to wine.

But I once tried an old ’39.

Besides getting smashed

I broke out in a rash

So now gin and tonic does fine.

That’s my favourite of eight limericks I wrote for an assignment in grade six. Every one of them dealt with alcohol.

The first time I got drunk was on New Year’s Eve when I was fourteen. My parents were at a party, so Duncan and I helped ourselves to the fully stocked bar, adding water to the bottles so they looked full. It was fun at the time.

“Duncan, pour in a little rum,” I said. “They’re not big rum drinkers, so they won’t miss that.”

“Okay.” He poured a bit of rum into the pitcher. “And how about some rye?”

“Yah, that’s good. What about a bit of gin?”

“No way,” said Duncan. “They know their gin like the back of their hand. Here’s some bourbon. That hardly ever gets touched.”

A year later, my friend Stephanie Mortimer and I raided my parents’ liquor cabinet one night when my parents were out. We took a bottle that was almost empty and added a little bit from several bottles until it was full. Then we went out in a field and drank the entire bottle. We sat on our jackets because the ground was cold. I plugged my nose as I took swigs of the gross mixture. Tall grasses surrounded us and rubbed against our cheeks. Stephanie was petite. She got so drunk that she passed out in the middle of a road while we were walking to a party. A man in a station wagon drove by and picked us up. He was an elderly gentleman wearing horn-rimmed glasses. He laid Stephanie in the back seat, and I sat beside her. I gave him the address of the party. “Can you drive us to 49 Burdock Road? That’s where Stephanie lives.” Out cold in the back seat, Stephanie started foaming at the mouth.

The man looked back and saw the foam. “Your friend is very sick. I’m taking her to the hospital.” He turned the car around and headed for North York General.

“No, please. Just take her home,” I begged. “She’ll be fine.”

The man sped to the Emergency entrance, made sure she was safely in the hospital and drove off. Stephanie lay there with white bubbles oozing out of her mouth. My heart started racing, and I could hardly breathe. A doctor came out to talk to me.

“Can you tell me what your friend has injected, inhaled or ingested?” He ran a hand through his grey hair.

I pictured the look on my mother’s face. “She hasn’t had anything that I know of. We were just on our way to a party, and she passed out on the road.”

“Come on, now,” he said. “Tell me the truth.”

“Like I said. She’s had nothing that I know of,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.

I waited and waited. The doctor came out again.

“I know your friend has had something. You’d be helping us a lot if you could shed some light on the situation, so we can help her.”

This time, I flashed on my father, and the look he got when he had three or more drinks, and one of us kids answered him back. “I’m telling you, I don’t know anything.” Finally, the doctor called me into the room where Stephanie lay motionless.

About the Author Jacelyn Cane was born and raised in Toronto. She lives with her husband, and near her three children and step-daughter. She is a retired elementary school teacher who also worked in social justice education with the United Church of Canada. She has worked in theatre and as a reporter. She was educated in Toronto, earning a B.A. in Political Science and an M.A. in Canadian History from York University. Later, she earned a B. Ed. at the University of Toronto. She is passionately involved in numerous social justice issues such as climate crisis concerns and Indigenous rights. She loves meditating, writing, reading, music, laughing, and being around nature. She is motivated by a deep sense of spirituality. Her number one love, however, is being with family and friends.

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