Looking for a romance with a little more grit, check out Roadside by Angie Dokos!Read on for more details and a chance to win a copy signed by the author!
Roadside by Angie Dokos
Publication Date: May 2017
Genre: New Adult Romance
Zayne finds Serena’s lifeless body off the side of the road one morning. She has been beaten and left for dead. As she recovers, they become the best of friends. It doesn’t take long for Zayne’s feelings to grow stronger. Will the fear of ruining their friendship keep them from taking a chance on love?
Levi didn’t look at the caller ID on the screen before answering. “Detective Morgan.”
“Dad. She’s awake.” Zayne spat out.
Confused, Levi questioned, “What? Who?”
“The girl we found. She woke up.”
“How do you know? The nurses were to call me when she woke up.”
“They are working with her now. Trying to calm her down.”
“You’re there? At the hospital?”
“Yes. I came back to check on her. She woke up while I was talking to Sadie.”
“Son, why did you go back? You knew they’d call me if there were any changes.”
“I don’t know, Dad. I just felt like it.” Zayne snapped. “Please get back down here and ask your questions so you can help her.”
Levi exhaled loudly. “I’m on my way.”
Zayne stood outside the door listening to Sadie and another nurse talk to the girl. Sadie was telling her she had been beaten and was found lying near the side of the road. The other nurse told her, “You’re safe now. The young man that was here when you woke up was one of the people that found you and brought you here.”
Sadie asked, “Can you tell us what your name is sweetie?” Zayne listened for a response. He heard Sadie say, “It’s okay honey. You’re going to be okay.”
The other nurse asked, “Do you want some water to drink?” He didn’t hear a reply from the girl, but he could hear the nurse moving around. He was afraid to go back into the room. When she first woke up and saw him, she panicked. She didn’t scream, but it looked like she was about to. She was whimpering. Tears rolled down her bruised and swollen face. She
tried to push herself away. She was shaking, and the heart rate monitor’s beep sped up. Sadie asked him to go find a nurse named Piper. She was trying to calm the girl down. He found Piper at the nurses’ station. She rushed into the room to help Sadie.
Zayne was still standing at the door listening when his dad arrived. Levi asked, “Son, are you okay? You look exhausted.”
Zayne replied, “I’m fine. Go find out who she is and help her.”
Levi shook his head. “We need to talk about this later.” He lightly tapped on the partially open door. The nurses and the girl turned and looked at him. The traumatized girl started whimpering again, and she was trying to scramble backward. Levi said, “It’s okay, ma’am. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help.”
Sadie exclaimed, “She’s not ready to talk.”
Levi asked, “Do you know her name? We need to contact her family.”
“Piper, stay with her,” Sadie spat. She planted her hand on Levi’s shoulder and pushed him out the door. “She has obviously been attacked by a male, the last thing she needs is strange men in her room.”
“I apologize. But we need to know who she is. We found no identification, no phone or anything. We haven’t even found her clothing. We need to at least know her name. She needs her family and I’m sure someone is worried sick about her. The sooner we know what happened, the better chance we have of catching whomever did this to her.”
Sadie sighed. “Give us a few minutes. She hasn’t spoken yet.”
Levi asked, “Can I talk to the doctor while you talk to her? He can possibly tell me some useful information for the investigation.”
“Yes. Go to the nurses’ station down the hall and ask them to get Dr. Archer for you. I do know she fought like hell, and she wasn’t raped. But he can tell you more.”
Throughout my childhood, I loved to write. I would make up stories all the time. As an adult, I had a million ideas for stories, but they weren’t leaving my notebooks or computer. My daughter got a bright idea for her senior project, she would publish a book. We discussed it and decided she and I would write, edit, publish, and promote a book. Well, life happened and she didn’t stick with it. I was too attached by that time and had to figure out what was going to happen with our characters, so I kept writing. A couple years later, Mackenzie’s Distraction was published. After that, I started writing another one. The following year, Roadside was published. Click on over to Amazon and check them out.
Hello Readers! Today I’m excited to share exclusive first chapter of DORK by Will Winkle. Read sneak peak and about this contemporary humor in this post.
DORK by Will Winkle
Publication Date: January 2020
Publisher: Abuzz Press
Genre: contemporary humor / new adult fiction
Charlie Brown meets The Catcher in the Rye in this humorous novel following a neurotic economics major weeks from graduation.
Ray Cooper is graduating from college and doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life – stop me if you’ve heard this before. Besides his impending graduation, Coop also has the problem of trying to start a new relationship in the shadow of his last one. Plus, his term project is due in two weeks. He’s also losing his hair. Alright, he has a few problems. Over a weekend, Ray attends the birthday party of a girl he isn’t sure if he knows, meets odd people at bars, and looks forward to the last hurrah he and his friends have planned for Saturday when the local bars are offering discounts to anyone with wristbands sold for charity. There’s no way any of this could go wrong.
Chapter 1. Nailing the First Line
and I’m Not Going to Read Your College Poetry
It was a lovely spring day in the Pacific Northwest, which only meant it wasn’t raining. It was in the mid-fifties and either mostly sunny or partly cloudy depending on your worldview. This was the exact same kind of weather that had sent everyone diving into their closets for sweatshirts and long pants months before but now compelled people to find objects to throw back and forth on grassy areas and caused sweat to stick the shirt to my back. The large top-floor window that took up most of the back wall let in unobstructed sunlight, turning the third-floor classroom into a sort of convection oven. This created a level of exhaustion in the sedentary audience, who each took turns shifting our gazes down at their phones and up again to our classmate giving his presentation. He had taken the senior economics presentation as an occasion that required a sport coat, tie, and a button-down shirt that had the unusual characteristic of turning a darker shade of blue whenever you looked back up from your phone.
I felt bad being on my phone, but I would have preferred if more people had been on theirs during my presentation. This wasn’t from any fear of public speaking, but more because I would rather that they had been looking at something they actually found interesting. The only student who seemed to truly pay attention was named Zack or something like that, though I may have only assigned him that name because I disliked everyone named Zack that I knew. I mean, the lack of common decency required to not only read the presentation slides but then to also ask questions about them is astounding to me.
I cycled from Facebook to my email – both student and personal – and to a picture sharing site, each of which I had combed through less than five minutes before. I would occasionally look up at the presentation, both to see what new shade the shirt had reached as well as to relieve the presenter from having to continually stare at the baseball-sized circle of thinning hair on the top of my head. I missed some hairs at the corner of my mouth when shaving and I absentmindedly picked at them throughout class, intending to just rip them out of my face like a psychopath.
I thought the guy speaking was about to either wrap up or collapse, but he lasted another pint of sweat before getting to questions. The suspected Zack raised his hand which almost gave the girl next to him whiplash when she had to turn away from his unobstructed armpit. The presenter gave an answer that made it seem like he had been paying as little attention to his own presentation as the rest of us had been. There were no more questions from any of the students, which meant that Professor Baker would have to ask in everyone’s stead. Baker looked like an economics professor from a movie which meant a lot of tweed and argyle. He would ask tenured professor questions, which meant he would ramble about his opinion on the topic before saying, “So what do you think about that?” and no matter how you answered you were not quite right.
Maddison had abandoned the melting man in front and shifted her attention to my barbaric method of tweezing. She had blonde hair, blue eyes – all that stuff – but even more than that she seemed like she would be attractive for a very long time. Her face wasn’t going to soften in her thirties or forties, and when her hair silvered it would do so gracefully. All of this would make it hit someone a lot harder if she said that they should just remain friends when that someone asked her out nine months before. I never felt that of course, because Maddison and I were just friends.
The guy finished his not quite right answer and received half-assed applause to show that nobody else was going to ask any questions – even if they wanted to. Baker looked at the clock and said, “We might as well stop here,” which we all knew meant the class wouldn’t end for another ten or twelve minutes. He used this time to ramble in much the same way he did when asking questions, but at least we didn’t have to give a not quite right answer this time. Maddison and I were among the last ones out of the classroom, which was on the top floor and coincidentally down the hall from Baker’s office.
“Raymond,” Maddison started as we followed the rest of the class down the stairs. She always began conversations with the other person’s full first name, even when it was obvious who she was speaking to. This made her one of the few who used my first name at all instead of calling me Cooper or Coop. “How was trivia?” she asked.
“We got second.” We had actually tied for third, but we were pretty sure that the new bartender they had keeping score missed giving us points for one of our answers. Either way, we weren’t that close to the team that won almost every Tuesday. “Are you going to Ladies’ Night?”
“Oh! There’s a DB twenty-one run tonight so I should be out.”
“Who’s turning twenty-one?” By this time, we had reached the bottom of the stairs and were turning toward the doors outside.
“Do you know Nikki Martin? She’s a junior.”
“Yeah, I know who she is.” I knew the name, but I couldn’t put a face to it right then.
“You should come. We’re pregaming at Claire and Heather’s apartment.”
Claire? That was a thought, but accepting an invitation to the birthday party of someone you hardly knew would be the move of a truly socially starved individual.
“Pre-game is at nine, then we’re going downtown at ten.” She said.
“Sounds good.” We were heading down the walkway toward Greek Row, flanked on both sides by tall elms attempting to grow a new year’s worth of leaves. It was a very pretty walk that likely inspired a lot of bad poetry. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”
“I’m driving home tomorrow.” She did this once or twice a month. “What about you?”
“The D-Psi’s are selling wristbands that give you discounts downtown on Saturday.”
“That sounds fun, what are the wristbands for?”
“At The Ivy you get -”
“Sorry, what cause?” she clarified.
“Oh. Child illiteracy.” That was a half guess.
I still can’t wrap my head around people that went home during weekends without cause. It seemed like they had resigned to have less happen in their lives – a timespan I had equated to before one turns thirty. They were arresting their own development, unlike someone like me, who went to the same two or three bars every weekend. At least there was a hope that something would happen on Saturday, I just wasn’t certain what that something might be.
“What are you guys having for lunch?” She asked after a lapse in the conversation.
“I think breakfast food.”
She made a soft guttural sound, “Uhh, that sounds so good.” She drew out the “so”.
“What’s at DB?”
“Grilled cheeses, and I’m probably going to eat a whole tray I’m so hungry.” She drew out the “so”, again. “I didn’t eat breakfast.”
“Huh, well I’ll actually be eating breakfast pretty soon.” She laughed at that even though it wasn’t very funny, another cause for attraction. We each told the other one that we would see them at Heather and Claire’s that night. The path dumped us out onto a street corner, and I cut across the road to the walkway up to the IO house.
After getting up to my room, I closed the door to get to the mirror on the back. The missed hairs at the corner of my mouth had to go, so I grabbed my razor and locked the door to prevent someone from flinging it open and slicing my ear off. I’m not sure who would have been so eager to speak to me but can’t a guy dream about losing an ear in the name of comradery? When I finished I took a multivitamin and fiber supplement. I put both pills in the same bottle so that it would be less of a task to take them. This is just one of the things one can achieve after four years at a state school.
I opened the curtain and window opposite the door. The room had a solid view of Greek row, which was one of the reasons I had picked it. Two of our sophomores were throwing a frisbee in the front yard. They weren’t throwing it to each other so much as to the sidewalk and street next to and behind their partner. I kept hearing the disc skittering on asphalt as I changed into running clothes. By the time I had finished tying my running shoes they had given up the effort and had committed to smoking cigarettes on the bench out front.
It was a little before eleven, so if I left right then I would be done running and back right before lunch was served. I ran my earbuds under my shirt and plugged them into my phone before putting my phone into my pocket. I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop, on which I repeated the cycle of Facebook, my email – both personal and student – and the picture sharing site before I ended up looking through YouTube videos. After ten minutes I wrapped my earbuds around my phone and took off my running shoes.
After another ten minutes, I opened my econ term paper, looking over the most-of-a-page that made up the entirety of my completed writing. It was due in a little over two weeks. The tepid results of my research made it as interesting to write about as it did to present. This wasn’t helped by the fact that graduation was on the horizon, which not only put the brakes on productivity but also flipped a U-turn over a double yellow and started in the opposite direction. I came up with a solid opening line, the wake of which I had hoped to ride throughout the rest of the paper. “Everybody loves a winner, but sometimes it’s good enough to just try to look like one.”
I shut my laptop, slid on my slippers, and went to the opposite end of the hall from my room. I could hear music on in Trevor’s room next to the fire escape, so I pushed the door the rest of the way open. Trevor peaked around his closet to see who had entered.
“Hey Cooper,” he said returning to the mirror on the inside of the closet door. It looked like he had recently showered and was now messing with his bleached hair.
“What’s up,” I replied.
“Not much, did you just go running?”
“No, I’m going to go after lunch. Are you going to the DB twenty-one run tonight?” He was good friends with Claire, so I figured he might have been invited.
“I’m going to the pregame,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll stick with the group downtown though.”
“That’s what I was thinking, I just wanted to make sure that there would be more than two people that I actually knew there.”
“When does it start?”
“I think at nine. Have you gotten your wristband yet?”
“Not yet, are they selling them tomorrow too?”
“Yep,” I said.
“Cool, cool, cool,” he said while checking his phone. “Oh, but guess who’s going to be in town on Saturday.”
I guessed Noah, which was the name of Trevor’s ex-boyfriend.
“Oh shit, really?” Things hadn’t ended well between them, so naturally his returning to town may cause emotional distress to my close friend, and worse than that, might affect my Saturday night.
“Yeah, he sent me an email saying he was. Said we could get coffee if I wanted to talk to him.”
“An email?” I asked, twisting up my face.
“I have him blocked on pretty much everything else.”
“Didn’t he say he got engaged like two months ago?”
“Yeah,” Trevor sighed. “I don’t know what his fucking deal is.”
“Can’t trust those gays,” I said, taking a step back from the doorway. “What you need to do is date a straight gay guy.”
“They’re more trouble than they’re worth,” he said, following me towards the stairs. “Do you know what’s for lunch?”
His reply was a drawn-out, “Yes.”
We walked into the formal room, which for the literally and figuratively uninitiated is similar to a parlor. We would just call it a parlor, but that would sound even more pretentious than formal room. It contained a pair of brown leather couches separated by a coffee table as well as a fireplace that set off the smoke detector whenever we used it. At the end we had entered from, there was a small library with a collection of old yearbooks and out of date legal codes. The dining room was through an archway opposite the fireplace. The tables were placed end-to-end except for the head table at the far end, which was set perpendicular to the rest.
Trevor and I plopped down opposite one another on the leather couches, and each put a foot up on the coffee table. Trevor took out his phone and I did the same, intent on spending the twelve minutes until noon cycling between Facebook, email – both student and personal – and the picture sharing site. Eventually, the freshmen hashers showed up, some still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and began setting up the buffet-style lunch. They wiped off the tables and laid down cardboard where the hot pans would be set. The last member came in from the kitchen carrying a ten-gallon jug full of the pink lemonade flavor that I didn’t like. They then made half a dozen to go boxes for people still in class. Each got a shoveling of eggs, hash browns, a few pieces of bacon or sausage, and maybe a biscuit depending on how nice the guy making it was.
Everyone lined up behind the hashers, and when I was handed the tongs I gave them several test clicks to make sure that they hadn’t stopped functioning in the two seconds since they were last used. I loaded my plate with eggs, bacon, a biscuit, and filled a cup with the dumb pink lemonade.
Trevor and I sat halfway down the row of tables. Cameron, a fellow senior, moved down the rows in the sure-footed way that made people surprised to learn that he is legally blind. He looked eager to get something solid in his stomach, feeling the effects that come with being on the eighth day of what would turn out to be a ten-day bender. I suspected that was related to his having been dumped by his girlfriend of three years.
“What’s up, guys?” Cam said in the way where it was more of a greeting than an actual question.
“’sup” I returned, salting my eggs.
“Oh, living the dream.”
“Are you going to the DB twenty-one run?” I asked.
“Nikki’s? Yeah. Are you?”
“Nope, just asking.”
“Well, okay then.” He laughed.
I had been unsure if he planned on going out of the chance that his ex would be there. She cheated on him during one of those service-learning trips where they build shoddy housing for people in Costa Rica. This made it worse in my mind because unless they’re in the wake of natural disasters or wars, the free labor ends up causing long-term detriments to developing economies by undercutting local workers. I decided not to tell Cam about that though. He was already going through a lot.
“Champ’s is going to have two-dollar Jager bombs with a wristband on Saturday,” Cam said.
“So, you’re going to be there all day is what you’re saying?”
“No, just most of it.” He cracked a grin. “Hey, do you think Jada will be at the twenty-one run?”
“I was trying not to think of it so I could enjoy my lunch.” I played this as a joke, but I had mulled over the possibility.
“Are you going to choke her again?” Trevor said. By then I knew it was pointless to argue that her mention of liking to be choked having come after we had slept together a few times didn’t mean the two were related, so I instead joined in on the laughter. Some mistakes become penicillin, but most just become things for your friends to make fun of you for.
I grabbed another biscuit after I finished my food and was bringing my plate to the kitchen. After adding it to the stack I stepped aside to check dinner on the schedule. It was spaghetti and meatballs. I returned to my room to put my running shoes back on and ran my headphones back down my shirt and reattach them to my phone. After a few stretches to loosen my hamstrings I walked right past the stairs and into Brad Bannon’s room.
Unsurprisingly he was playing FIFA, Brad being the only person I knew who went to the women’s soccer games because he wanted to see them play and not because he thought that the players were attractive. I didn’t recognize either team playing, which was no surprise either. Soccer questions are rarely asked in bar trivia. Brad sat on the only part of the folded-up futon not being occupied by his girlfriend, Megan, who was lounging outstretched, chewing on one of her fingernails while looking at her laptop.
“How’s it going, Coop?” He said taking a quick glance away from the screen.
Megan gave a, “Hey,” while looking up from her laptop.
“Pretty good,” which was my muscle memory answer no matter how things were in going.
“Did you just go running?” Brad peeled his green eyes – which had been called “pretty” by numerous girls on numerous occasions – away from the elevated TV and saw my outfit.
“No, I’m about to go.”
“Oh, well good for you buddy.” Which like everything Brad said, was completely sincere. “I need to start running again.”
“Yeah, you’re starting to get a little fat,” I said, which was untrue to the point that it was an obvious joke.
“He’s right,” Megan said. Brad’s laugh seemed more forced for this remark.
“Are you going to Ladies’ Night?” I asked.
“Oh, maybe,” Brad said, which meant that chances were slim to none, and slim had left town.
“I might go,” Megan announced. This was done less to entice Brad into going as it was to point out that she would be going out without him.
“You both are coming on Saturday, right?” I asked.
“Yep,” Brad said. “Should be fun.”Megan shut her laptop and began putting it into her backpack. “I’m going to go back to my place.” She said broadly but was still directed at her boyfriend. He paused his game and put his shoes on to walk her home, compelling me to accompany them down the stairs and finally out the door.
Will Winkle graduated from the University of Idaho with both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in economics, so naturally, he’s decided to become a novelist. While in college Will wrote comedy segments for the show he hosted on the university’s radio station, KUOI 89.3 FM Moscow, Idaho. Currently, he is writing short stories and co-writing a one-man-show with a graduate theater student at the University of Alabama.
What do you think about the book? Have you read this book already? Are you going to add it to TBR?
Hello Readers! Today is the cover reveal for The Emerald Tablet Series, organized by Rachel’s Random Resources. Please check out the book details and wonderful cover in this post. I hope you enjoy it.
The Emerald Tablet: Omnibus Edition by JM Hart (three books in one) Publication Date: August 2018 Genre: YA / NA / Adult Urban Fantasy Paranormal
Shaun can’t shake the deep anger over his mother’s death. But when his father’s desperate actions release parasitic hell-beasts upon the world, he has a much bigger fight on his hands.
Kevin hoped his country would be immune to the pandemic turning everyday people into psychopaths. But as his horror grows, an incredible new power could be the only thing that prevents Earth’s destruction.
Sophia is terrified of God’s plan for her. Plagued by visions of planetary devastation, she prays she can reach her allies in time to save humanity.
As doomsday approaches, can the teens accept their destiny in time to protect their world?
The Emerald Tablet: Omnibus is three books of dark speculative fiction in one. If you like brave teenage heroes, intriguing mystical connections, and apocalyptic international settings, then you’ll love JM Hart’s incredible collection.
Buy The Emerald Tablet to unlock the adventure today!
JM Hart was born in Sydney, Australia and has been a
storyteller from a young age, with a particular interest in horror and things
that go bump in the night. Favorite authors include Stephen King, Clive
Barker, Dean Koontz, to name but a few. After being told at the age of 11
that writing about dead bodies and newlyweds dying in a plane crash was
unbecoming, JM’s life was instead directed towards bookkeeping and finance.
For the next twenty years, immersed in a point-of-sale advertising company, JM occasionally wrote advertising blurbs, learnt how to ride a motorcycle, taught color physiology to spiritual mediums, meditation and relaxation, studied Religions, Kabbalah, tarot cards, astrology, creative and professional writing, philosophy and volunteered at palliative care, and worked on the local church newsletter – not quite the appropriate outlet for a writer interested in the supernatural. And she became a grandmother.
Hello Readers! Today is my stop during the Blitz tour for Runaways by Rachel Sawden, organized by Xpresso Book Tours (in collaboration with The Literary Lobbyist). Please check out book details, excerpt and giveaway in this post.
Runaways by Rachel Sawden Publication date: November 9th 2018 Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Harper Rodrigues’ five-year plan was on track. She’d worked hard to secure her graduate marketing job, her boyfriend Adam was set to propose any day, and she was learning to process the death of her sister. She’d been through some dark times, but there was light at the end of the tunnel.
At least, that’s how it had seemed until the day she was fired in the morning and dumped by nightfall. Now, with her life plans in ruins, Harper turns to her best friends who are going on the trip of a lifetime – five-months traveling across Asia and Oceania. Determined to see the silver lining in her unraveled plans, she decides to book a plane ticket to join them and resurrect her dreams of becoming a travel photographer.
But Harper’s travels aren’t all sunshine and cocktails. With Adam begging for her forgiveness and proposing on the eve of her departure, Harper knows she must be on her best behavior. But when she meets Xavier, an enigmatic poet on the beaches of Goa, that may just be easier said than done.
Runaways is the empowering and racy tale of one woman’s voyage of self-discovery. A must-read for fans of travelogues and romance alike.
In overcoming her fears, the protagonist learned to
live and not just exist. A great read for anyone who wants to change their life
but is scared to step outside the norm. I would love a sequel! –Netgalley 5-star
If you enjoy books about self-exploration, summer
love and some drama this would be a good book for you. –Goodreads 4-star review
This was a gripping read. I really felt like I was
there experiencing different countries with the writer. A great combination of
wanderlust, romance, friendship and life after loss. –Amazon 5-star review
This a heartwarming story about friends, romance and
following your dreams. I enjoyed the debut novel of this author as the
combination of the relationship of the three friends, the great locations that
felt like you were travelling with them and the romances they experienced on
their journey turned into an enjoyable story and I would definitely read her
future books. –Amazon 4-star review
Where would you go if you could run away? Trek the tangled jungles of Thailand? Camp under the constellations in the Australian outback? Or run wild with your lover on white sand beaches in the South Pacific?
“Nowhere,” I whispered. My heels clicked on the linoleum floor, punctuating the spiel from my presentation echoing in my head. “I am exactly where I am supposed to be.”
How could I not be positive? I was one of the lucky few to gain and maintain employment in the shadow of the Great Recession. Fresh out of university, I might add. Granted, my working unpaid for TMI Marketing during my summer years gave me a leg up on the competition. While my job consisted mainly of making coffee, filing papers, and having my ideas ignored, I worked my ass off for the past three years. And today was the day my hard work would pay off. It was the day it all would change. The career side of my five-year plan was on schedule.
A fresh wave of adrenaline pulsed through me as I made my way down the hallway of very unflattering lighting to my boss’s office to discuss the presentation I’d given that morning. A discussion that would hopefully lead to a new position in the company. One where I could take on actual responsibility and express my creativity. Perhaps be involved in art direction. A business card with a title: Harper Rodrigues, Marketing Executive.
I would actually manage my very own accounts.
We had secured a new client, a travel website, Madcap Travels, who was looking to reevaluate their social media marketing plan and contracted my company to manage it. Myself and a colleague had made competing presentations for the job. Only one of us could gain the account. Only one of us could be promoted. Only one of us could win today, and I wanted it to be me.
I had never been so excited about a project, and so damn scared about presenting.
Inspired by my friends’ upcoming “gap year” travels, I created the Run Away campaign harnessing the power of this growing thing called social media. When Facebook became a buzzword a few years back, my father said it was just a passing fad used by horny college students too lazy to go to the bar and talk to each other. He may have been right, but once it had been opened up to anyone with an email address there were millions of lazy, horny people of all ages across the world skulking around on confined areas of cyberspace. And that is gold to a marketer.
In a nutshell, the campaign would focus on incentivizing both amateur and professional photographers who were traveling the globe to connect and share their stories and photographs on social media platforms. Top entrants would not only gain recognition on the website but also chances to win prizes from partner sponsors such as airlines, tour companies, and hotels. I poured myself into this presentation. Putting myself in the shoes of one of the many runaways, I imagined my life living out of a backpack, seeing a new city every week, learning from other photographers, finding remote waterfalls and villages from the whispers of other vagabonds.
It was what I hoped to do had I not abandoned my plans to become a world-famous travel photographer.
It was what I could do if I abandoned my carefully crafted five-year plan and took off with Jade and Lana.
It was what I wanted to do with my sister, Audrey, since we were little girls. It was what we could have done if she were still alive.
Rachel Sawden was born and raised in Bermuda. As the daughter of a Jamaican father and English mother the former model earned a bachelor’s degree in Psychology from McGill University in Montreal Canada. Today Rachel is an author, producer, and content creator in her beautiful island of Bermuda. The certified scuba and free diver explored the Great Barrier Reef and underwater worlds in Cuba and Indonesia. She is the ultimate travel maven having journeyed to over 35 countries across 5 continents since graduating college.
Hello Readers! Today is the cover reveal for The Sisters of Salem by Tish Thawer, organized by Xpresso Book Tours and the cover is designed by Regina Wamba. Check out the book details and the cover in this post.
The Sisters of Salem by Tish Thawer Series: Witches of BlackBrook, #3 Published by: Amber Leaf Publishing Publication date: Summer/Fall 2019 Genres: New Adult, Paranormal, Romance
Through space and time, sisters entwined. Lost then found, souls remain bound.
After facing a relentless foe, three sister witches are forced even further back through time to a place that holds just as much sorrow for them as it does joy.
Returning to their origins in 1685, the trio races to save not only their mother from the clutches of their new enemy but also to secure the future they’ve worked for centuries to build.
Avoiding their younger selves is a necessity that proves difficult, especially when one sister isn’t sure she wants to leave the past behind. Faced with love and loss, these witches are forced to endure the burning times again, and one wrong step could alter history and their future forever.
2017 – #1 Bestseller in Historical Fiction (Witches of BlackBrook) 2017 – Top 100 Bestselling in Paid Kindle Store (Witches of Blackbrook) 2015 – Best Cover – Penned Con (The Witches of BlackBrook) 2015 – Readers Choice Award – My New Favorite Book Awards (The Witches of BlackBrook)
Bestselling and Award Winning Author, Tish Thawer, writes paranormal romances for all ages. From her first paranormal cartoon, Isis, to the Twilight phenomenon, myth, magic, and superpowers have always held a special place in her heart.
Tish is known for her detailed world-building and magic-laced stories. Her work has been compared to Nora Roberts, Sam Cheever, and Charlaine Harris. She has received a RONE Award nomination (Reward of Novel Excellence), as well as nominations for Best Cover, Reader’s Choice, and Author of the Year (Fantasy, Dystopian, Mystery).
Tish has worked as a computer consultant, photographer, and graphic designer, and is a columnist for Gliterary Girl media and has bylines in RT Magazine and Literary Lunes Magazine. She resides in Arizona with her husband and three wonderful children and is represented by Gandolfo, Helin, and Fountain Literary Management.