Saturday, February 28, 2015

New from Terri Blackstock | ‘Twisted Innocence’ Nook Giveaway

Celebrate the series' final release by entering Terri's Nook giveaway!


In Terri Blackstock’s third and final book in her Moonlighters series, Twisted Innocence, readers are in for a story of suspense and redemption. Dangers old and new threaten Holly and her baby, and lives are demanded as sacrifices for love. Through a complex web of mistakes and regret, redemption is the one hope Holly has left to hold on to.


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One grand prize winner will receive:


  • A Nook GlowLight
  • The entire Moonlighters series
Enter today by clicking the icon below. But hurry, the giveaway ends on March 8th. Winner will be announced March 9th on the Litfuse blog.




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{NOT ON FACEBOOK? ENTER HERE.}

TWISTED INNOCENCE by Terri Blackstock, Zondervan

Holly is a cab driver who is convinced by her sister Juliet to work for Juliet’s husband Michael after being robbed by junkies. Nevertheless, there is another problem Holly must deal with when the police show up on her doorstep asking questions regarding Creed Kershaw, father to Holly’s daughter Lily, about a murder in which he is named a suspect.

Holly decides to search for Creed just in case he is contemplating seeking custody of Lily. She refuses to let anything that happen since their one-night stand tryst knowing that no one is aware he is the father. Holly also tries to find the connection between the man who has murdered members of her family named Leonard Miller, and Creed. With God by her side, Holly makes decisions that will affect the life of her daughter Lily, Creed, and herself.

Twisted Innocence is a very enjoyable read that will have you turning pages with just enough suspense to keep it mysterious. ‘Hold to God’s Unchanging Hand’ might have been an alternative title for this novel as He comes into the picture showing the good that comes from holding onto His hand through any situation. I recommend to all book lovers who enjoy mysteries with a little suspense intertwined with crime drama for you will not be disappointed.


I received this book free from Zondervan through the Litfuse Publicity Group reviewer program in exchange for an honest review in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission Guidelines.


About the author: 

Terri Blackstock has sold over six million books worldwide and is a New York Times bestselling author. She is the award-winning author of "Intervention," "Vicious Cycle," and "Downfall," as well as such series as Cape Refuge, Newpointe 911, the SunCoast Chronicles, Restoration, and Moonlighters.

Find Terri online: websiteFacebookTwitter

Monday, February 23, 2015

LOSING HEART by Donna Brown

Helen, diagnosed with heart failure, is upset that she on the waiting list for a heart and waiting for the moment her beeper sounds off. The waiting is getting the best of Helen and she releases her frustrations on her husband and daughter until one afternoon her beeper makes that welcoming sound.

Six months after a successful heart surgery, Marian, the mother of the heart donor requests a meeting and starts a friendship with Helen and her family that becomes more of an intrusion than normal ending with tragedy.

Losing Heart is a very good short story with a refreshing plot that is entertaining and flows smoothly. The novella has great suspense scenes while imagining possibly a book to screen movie on the Lifetime Channel. I recommend to all book lovers for a mystery and suspenseful short ride. I will go as far as saying this is one of the better novellas I have read thus far. At $.99 you can't lose with this one.

I received this book free from Masquerade Book Tours in exchange for an honest opinion in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission Guidelines.




Monday, February 16, 2015

CLP BLOG TOURS presents GREATER EXPECTATIONS by Alexander McCabe Excerpt



“So, from your understanding of the upper class stereotype, do you think we love in the same way that everyone else loves?” The laugh had gone and the fire was once again the object of her attention. Stupidly, it made me somewhat envious. It was obvious that she wanted to look anywhere else but at me and she suddenly seemed quite nervous and vulnerable. That look. What was it? So rarely had I seen this look before. She looked…forlorn? Yes, that was it. She looked forlorn.
It didn’t suit her.
“I’m afraid that I am the very last person to be able to speak of love with any kind of authority. I’m sorry.” Here was I taking to a stranger and yet, somehow, it felt instinctively right to be completely honest. She drew her eyes away from the fire and let them rest upon my chest. If I didn’t know better, I would have said she was looking for my heart.
“How so?” her voice nothing more than a whisper.
My life with Gem, told as an anecdote, came tumbling out. As Penny sat in silence, I soon became oblivious to her presence and spoke more to myself than to her. As my sorry tale came to a close, I apologetically explained about reading the email “it was wrong and I know I shouldn’t have done it, but…” and then proceeded to explain the crux of its contents whilst omitting the gory details, she could garner them for herself “…and so here I am, mending my broken heart with Richie.”
Many a true word said in jest as they say.
It was a few moments before she spoke. Not that I really noticed nor cared for, in my head, I was back staring at the computer monitor and reading that email for the first time - once again.
“So do you still believe in love?” Her question penetrated my thoughts although it took me a second to realise where I was.
“I was taught to believe in love, my mum is a bit of a romantic. My dad too, if truth be told although he would never readily admit to it. I thought I was in love but seeing now how easily I have walked away from it makes me realise that I truly wasn’t. It is all but impossible for me to determine whether it was the idea of love that I loved or if it was the person providing this possibility; that ‘someone to love’ as it were. It really is a rather complicated notion and one that generates more questions than answers for me.” The depth of my own answer had surprised me and I took a few seconds to consider what I had said.


“Actually, on reflection, forget all that. Yes, I believe in love but only in the way as described to me by my mother.”
“Which was?” Her sincerity was almost palpable as she shifted in her seat and crossed her legs underneath herself. Only now did I notice how big these chairs were, or maybe it is how small she is, it was certainly one or the other. Her glass had been abandoned on the table and she rested her head in her hands, supported by her elbows on her knees. It really was quite remarkable how completely at home she was in these stifling surroundings. She seduced me into believing that we were old friends simply discussing life; thus providing a comfort and confidence to speak my heart and mind without fear of judgment or ridicule.
It was a beautiful feeling.


“Love is when you can look into the eyes of another person and only see the reflection of your own soul. I rather like that idea and believe that it will happen for me one day.” In saying this, one of the unruly crowd hanging behind her caught my attention.
“It sounds like you believe in fate. I didn’t think that a man like you would.” She struck me as genuinely surprised.
“Another stereotype perhaps?” I said teasingly, my eyes too slow to catch hers as she looked back into the fire. The moment gone, I continued “I certainly do believe in fate, and why not? If I didn’t, why else would we be having this drink? I had never even heard of this estate until last week and now here I am enjoying myself with, quite literally, the Lady of the manor.”
“So you are enjoying yourself? Good. Me too.” As Penny said this, she settled back into her chair and placed her hands, one over the other, in her lap. She still sat on her legs. It amazes me how she manages to make even this pose seem so effortless yet graceful. I have no idea how she does that.
“So what is next for you, love-wise?”
“Who knows?” Rather than feeling bitter and consumed with hurt and regret, I just feel relieved. Obviously she is intent on using her career to climb the social ladder and that doesn’t really interest me, being honest. I have always been more interested in being ‘content’ rather than ‘happy’. ‘Happiness’ seems to be such a fleeting emotion, whereas ‘contentment’ has a more enduring appeal.” Penny was nodding in agreement at my distinction between these two ideals. “It seems that I had five months to get used to being single but only now it’s official. To be totally honest, I am thinking to join a dating site and see what happens. I am not averse to the idea of giving fate a hand, you know? Although I have absolutely no idea why I am telling you that.” I really didn’t and laughed in embarrassment at the absurdity of my need to admit this to her - a complete stranger.


Author Bio:

After graduating with a couple of useless degrees in law, Alexander McCabe left his Scottish homeland and wandered nomadically around the globe to experience the rich diversity of culture that the world has to offer. For the moment, it is Toronto's turn to provide a suitable abode for him and the wife that he picked up along the way...


Monday, February 9, 2015

CLP BLOG TOURS presents GREATER EXPECTATIONS by Alexander McCabe


Get it FREE during the tour!


Links:

Amazon.com:






Smashwords:



Barnes and Noble:


It is said that the course of true love never runs smooth - even for us men. Yet it has never been easier to find love than in this modern digital era where the mighty computer has all but rendered Cupid redundant. 
Love is now to be found, quite literally, at your fingertips. Although love also seems to have changed with the times. This new love is deceitful and manipulative, cunning and untrustworthy. 

Love has gotten ugly. 
Thankfully, not all the answers to life’s mysteries are to be found in the computer and Cupid - battered and bruised as he may be - proves that he still has some game and a few tricks up his sleeve…







Author Bio:

After graduating with a couple of useless degrees in law, Alexander McCabe left his Scottish homeland and wandered nomadically around the globe to experience the rich diversity of culture that the world has to offer. For the moment, it is Toronto's turn to provide a suitable abode for him and the wife that he picked up along the way...










February 9 - A Blue Million Books – Q&A & Excerpt

February 10 - Chick Lit Plus – Excerpt

February 11 - Ogitchida Kwe’s Book Blog – Review & Excerpt

February 12- Jooniel Obsesses Over Books – Q&A & Excerpt

February 13 - Two Children and a Migraine – Review

February 16 - Jersey Girl Book Reviews – Review, Q&A & Excerpt

February 16 - Storm Goddess Book Reviews – Review & Q&A

February 16 - Ski-Wee’s Book Corner - Review & Excerpt

February 16 - The Phantom Paragrapher – Review 

CLP BLOG TOURS presents GIVE YOUR HEART A BREAK by Helen Peterson Excerpt



Chapter One

Friday morning. Another morning you could find me at my desk at the advertising firm, where I spent more hours in than my own apartment. I twirled a pen between my fingers, desperately trying to block out the sounds of my co-workers that surrounded me. What was the topic that morning? Relationships. Of course. In my department, eighty percent of the workers were female, so the water cooler talk was typically about men, shoes, relationships, shopping, and men.
            Why was I so bitter? Just because I was twenty-seven with no relationship prospects in sight—no big deal. And oh yes—everyone around me was happy as clams with their significant others. Nothing like salt in the wound to rub it in. I so badly wanted to find “the one.” And for other people—cough, my co-workers, cough—to stop flaunting their happiness in my face.
            I picked up a file and started flicking through the pages, trying to put my daily plan together. Only one meeting scheduled today, hurray. You would think meetings in advertising would be more exciting—and you would be wrong. As I shimmied my mouse to wake up my computer, I could hear Meiline talking about the new apartment she and her TV producer husband just bought on the Upper East Side. Meiline only worked for fun—bitch. The other girls were crowded around her desk, oohing and ahhing at the pictures she showed on her brand-new iPhone. Scowl.
            Never one to let attention be off her for long, Sydney soon pulled out her phone to show pictures of her flavor of the week—and the new “love of her life.” I swear, she said that after every date she went on. The guys never seemed to last more than a month—can’t imagine why. Imagine Kate Hudson’s character in Something Borrowed, then times it by ten. She’s loud, provocative, and ├╝ber-selfish. And loud.
            “And he showed up at my door with a dozen roses! He even hired a private car to take us to our destination. If that doesn’t scream keeper, I don’t know what does!” Sydney practically screamed at everyone listening to her. Why they were so rapt, I just couldn’t figure out.

            Okay, I get it. I sound like an awful, jealous, spiteful person. But I’m not, I swear. It’s just . . . my past relationships have made more of a mess of me than I would like to admit. But hey, I just did—right? So maybe that’s the first step?
            “Rachel!”
            I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my best friend Kat screeching my name.
            “Jeez, I’m right here. No need to yell,” I said.
            “I said your name twice. What were you thinking about?” she asked as our friend Monica walked up beside her.
            I casually pulled a blueberry muffin from the brown paper bag that was atop my desk. “Nothing. The workday.”
            “Yeah, right. I haven’t been able to stop hearing about Meiline’s swanky new digs and Sydney’s Mr. Wonderful for the past thirty minutes. Unless you have invisible earbuds in, you were hearing the same,” Monica said, giving me a small smile. She was someone in the blissfully happy category, though she didn’t flaunt it like some people.
            “Anyway. We came by to talk about tonight,” Kat said.
            I wrinkled my brow and tried to look confused. “Tonight?” I asked innocently.
            They both stared at me.


            “You didn’t forget, did you? You promised you would come with us to Kiss Crush,” Monica said.
            “Right, of course!” I hadn’t forgotten, but I had secretly hoped that they had forgotten. Kat was at my desk just a few weeks ago ranting and raving about this Kiss Crush. It was apparently the new hot spot in Manhattan and we just “had” to make an appearance there. She was super insistent we go with her, and even assured us that we would be well taken care of if the three of us went together. I heard choice words and just nodded, smiled, and said sure, hoping they would forget. It sounded like a frat house to me, not a club, but Kat assured me it would be nothing like a frat house. How could she know if she hadn’t even been there yet?
            “So that’s a yes, you’re still in?” Kat looked at me with perfectly shaped Anastasia eyebrows raised. Kat was the leader of our three-person pack and had been since high school, where we all met. She was beautiful, always turning heads when we were out—by males and females, it was just that kind of beauty. Just a smidge shy of six feet, she was also graced with a reed-like body with just the right amount of curves in just the right places. Finishing off her look was stick-straight blonde hair nearly to her waist and pale blue eyes. No wonder she landed a top dog—Brian, who was Vice President of Visual Marketing at NBC. While they weren’t married and Kat couldn’t claim she worked for “fun” like other people—cough, Meiline, cough—Brian was incredibly wealthy and loved showering Kat with gifts and other glamorous items. Kat wasn’t too shabby herself in the career department and had been climbing the corporate ladder since starting as an intern here right after college. Between the two of them, let’s just say money was never a concern.
            Monica was the sweet one of our group, the ever optimist. She balanced us out–able to calm Kat down and keep her from getting too adventurous (like the time she tried to book us all flights to Jamaica simply because she heard the Dunn’s River Falls is a must), and she helped bring me out of my shell and not let me stay home in bed every night. Petite with dark wavy hair, dark brown eyes, rosy cheeks, and barely topping the scale at one hundred pounds, Monica was the definition of the word cute—which she hated. Monica’s boyfriend, John, worked at the New York Stock Exchange and was always busy with . . . stocks and stuff. I never quite understood what he did, and the times he did come out with us, he was pretty quiet, usually wrapped up on his phone.
            “I would say yes, but I have nothing to wear. Like, nothing. And I’m not even saying that just because I want to get into your closet, I swear,” I said, shooting Kat a wink. “I kind of went a little overboard on my last donation run. I think I gave up a fourth of my closet.”         
            That was right after a particularly bad breakup with Mark, a guy I met at Starbucks and truly thought could be “the one.” Until I found him at the same Starbucks with a blonde sitting on his lap. I had heard that donating to the less fortunate was a way to make you feel better. It really just made my closet look empty.



Friday, February 6, 2015

CLP BLOG TOURS presents VACATION IN NAPLES by Eva Fejos excerpt



Her mother was fueled by anger and impulse. She began her mission on Friday, and by Sunday, the house was nearly unrecognizable. Gone were the family photos and the old trinkets that Niki’s father had bought her mother. Her father’s favorite pillow, which he always put under his head while watching TV, and his favorite mug were stuffed into a bag. Niki rescued a pot of blooming orchids from the garbage can. Her father had given them to her mother at the end of last year. The clothes her father had left behind were also removed from the closet. Niki’s mother dragged the TV into a different corner of the living room, rolled up the rug in the bedroom, moved the dog into the winter garden, smashed a vase she and her husband had brought home from Istanbul, meticulously swept up the shards from the floor. The purging fit began on Friday afternoon and by Sunday they were up in the attic. Niki helped unobtrusively, and though she did not wholly agree with this cleansing, she nevertheless understood the purpose it served. She was just like her mother. The cleansing type. Anything you didn’t need or was not attached to you, anything that was unreliable: you get rid of it! It was a trait she’d clearly inherited from her mother.
          “I haven’t been up in the attic since I was a teenager,” she smiled.
          “Then it was about time.”
          “What are we looking for?”
          “Nothing. We’re tossing out your father’s stuff. Haven’t you noticed yet?”
          “Here’s my doll. Little Hanna,” she said, picking up the toy.
She tipped it forward and the baby doll cried. Niki replaced it in the toy crib.
“I’m happy for you, but concentrate on looking for your father’s old boxes instead. He always said he’d unpack them someday. Well, he’s not unpacking them anymore… not in this house, anyway.”

Her mother had used up mountains of tissues already. Her nose was red from all the wiping, but she didn’t look like she was starting to feel better. Niki crouched above the dusty boxes. Chilled, she pulled her coat closed. The old goose-down coat she’d left here years ago when she moved out had come in handy today. Now, she recalled how she’d always enjoyed sitting up here in the attic on hot summer mornings, when the sun blazed through the small skylights, casting a mysterious light on all the attic’s treasures, and how, in the afternoon sunset, everything in the attic seemed luminous with an unusual color. Treasures, shelves, chests, boxes, odds and ends: everything was coated in a fine layer of dust and illuminated by the setting sun. She liked the sweetish smell of the attic. Now that her old room functioned as storage, her childhood all came back to her here, in the attic. In her mind’s eye, she saw the girl of long ago who’d once promised to go out on a date with a boy, and as she and her friend played treasure hunt in the yard, she panicked when she suddenly saw the boy appear on their street… How they’d laughed after they dashed into the house and watched the boy from the window as he hung around outside... They breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left.  

“What’s this?” Niki said, opening a box and pulling out a snapshot.
Her mother… what a beautiful woman she’d once been. Like an Italian film star. Black hair, snow white skin, an attractive figure, and a sweet but still somehow erotic smile. A young man stood beside her. He was masculine, but still more a boy than a mature man. He was handsome and tall, a casual smile on his face, gazing at Niki’s mother lovingly.
It took a second glance to realize that the man was not her father. 
“Leave it. Just leave it,” Niki’s mother said, trying to pull the whole box away from her. But she suddenly changed her mind and plucked only the black and white photo from between her fingers.
Her gaze softened. Niki noticed a date on the back of the photo: 1976. She hadn’t been born yet. A quick calculation told her that her mother had been eighteen then.
“Who’s that guy? He’s a hunk,” she said in recognition.
“Alessandro Grotti.”
“Hmm… an Italian? Where was this taken? And who is he? Why didn’t you ever tell me about him?”
“I’m not required to tell you every detail of my life. You weren’t even been born yet when this was taken.”
“But who is he? Some mysterious, distant relative?”
“No. He’s a…” her mother paused, searching for the right words, smiling faintly. “…a boy from Naples… and the past.”


          “Where could he be now? Do you keep contact?” Niki inquired, while attempting to maintain a nonchalant expression.
          She and her mother were sitting around in the kitchen having coffee. Niki’s jeans were dirty and her muscles ached from three days of lifting and packing, but suddenly she was very curious about that Italian boy from her mother’s past.
          “No.”
          “No? That’s it?”
          “That’s it.”
          “You’re not very talkative. I’ll leave you here with Gran then. She’s on her way over right now. Here she comes, across the yard.”
          “You can’t do this to me.”  
          “The two of you can rag on Dad together.”         
          “If you don’t leave me with her now, I promise to tell you… about Alessandro.”
          “Deal,” Niki nodded.
          Maybe a pleasant story from the past would take her mind off her own problems and her father’s unexpected desertion. Now she had to worry about keeping her mother’s spirits up. Hopefully, her mother wouldn’t do anything stupid in her state of despair. Niki didn’t want to see Mom crushed and lonely. She had a whole bunch of problems she needed to solve and her parents’ sudden breakup had caught her off guard.