Spotlight: After Always by Barbara J. Hancock

Genre: YA Mystery & Suspense
Release Date: October 1st 2018
Entangled Teen

Lydia’s life felt like it ended when Tristan died. Sure, they had their problems and he could be a little…intense at times. But he’d promised to love her forever…

When her parents propose a summer across the country with a music teacher who runs an inn, Lydia agrees. But it’s different from what she expected. There’s a presence there she can’t quite reconcile—and it feels like it’s hunting her. It seems Tristan’s promise followed her…and may have graver consequences than she could have known.

Then there’s Michael Malone, the one light spot in an otherwise dark existence. Lydia can’t help but be drawn to him, and as they try to uncover the evil plaguing the inn, they grow closer. But guilt over Tristan’s death still consumes her. Can she and Michael uncover what evil lurks in the inn before it takes another victim?

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About the Author

Barbara J. Hancock lives in a cabin in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains with her many rescued pets and the guy who lured her into the wilderness with promises of lots of peace and quiet for writing. To this day, the Appalachian wildwood is the best gift she’s ever been given. Her favorite pastime (besides animal rescue) is bringing darkly romantic stories to life by firefly light.

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Spotlight: Dark Falls Series by Lori Ryan & Savannah Kade

Dark Falls
Lori Ryan
(Dark Falls Series)
Publication date: October 9th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Thriller

A cop hunting a violent thrill seeker. A woman from his past. Will their history and heated attraction put his case on ice?

Detective John Sevier never wanted to be anything but a cop. When a string of jewelry store heists threatens the woman he let get away years before, he’ll stop at nothing to bring the adrenaline junkie gang leader to justice.

Ava McNair never looked at her life as a sacrifice. She loves taking care of her dad and running her family’s jewelry store with her special needs sister. So what if that meant dropping out of college and leaving behind a man who just might have been the one? When fate gives her and the detective who got away a second shot at love, will she step up and take it or will life tear them apart again?

With Ava in the path of a killer, will John be able to move fast enough to take down a violent man set on wreaking as much damage as he can before he goes down?

Grab Dark Falls from NY Times Bestselling Author Lori Ryan and get ready for a night of “one more chapter” reading!

Dark Falls is the first book in the gripping new Dark Falls, CO romantic thriller series by Lori Ryan, Trish McCallan, Becca Jameson, Savannah Kade, Lisa-Marie Cabrelli, and Sandra Owens. Don’t miss a book!

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Dark Secrets
Savannah Kade
(Dark Falls Series)
Publication date: October 9th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Thriller

When Grace Lee storms into the Dark Falls Police Department, heads turn. But she only has eyes for Detective Nate Ryder—the officer who closed her brother Jimmy’s case too quickly, declaring his death a suicide rather than a murder. As a forensic scientist, Grace thinks the signs are obvious, the trick is convincing Nate.

Nate has to admit Grace’s argument makes a lot of sense, and he feels obligated to revisit the case. The problem is, while he’s following the old evidence, she’s collecting new samples—and putting herself in danger from the same organization that killed her brother. Jimmy was definitely onto something before he was murdered. Now, Nate has another worry: some of the new evidence Grace has found points back to members of the Dark Falls PD.

As strange coincidences turn deadly, Nate has to become Grace’s protector. They don’t know who they can trust and who they can’t. Will Grace and Nate be the next victims in a massive cover-up? Or can they figure out which cops are dirty fast enough to stay alive?

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SNEAK PEEKS:

Dark Falls
Ava McNair smiled as she watched the couple leave her store. She loved seeing couples find the perfect engagement ring to start their lives together. These two were young, but she could see the devotion in the way they looked at each other.

He’d come in ahead of time to choose a ring, then told his girlfriend he needed to swing by and pick up a watch his mom left to be repaired. The look on her face was priceless when he dropped to one knee after Ava passed him the ring box.

“Nice,” Kirsten James said, winking at Ava from her spot by the door. The woman might look harsh in her guard uniform, but she was as much of a softy when it came to that kind of thing as Ava was.

Ava grinned and turned to go to the back to check on her sister, but the door chimed again. What she saw when she looked back was anything but expected.

The man entering her family’s jewelry store had filled out. His face was different, worn in a way, but in a good way. At least, she thought it looked good on him. His eyes were the same, though.

John Sevier’s eyes trapped and held her, his light brown gaze doing things to her just like they had years before when she’d been stupid enough to walk away from him.

To say he was the one who got away was an understatement. She’d been so naïve and focused on all the wrong things at that time in her life. She never realized what she was losing until it was far too late for her to do anything about it.

Not that she would have been able to hold on to him anyway. Halfway through college, her life had changed drastically, and she’d had to drop out to help her dad and sister. She would have lost John then, anyway. Still, an eighties rock ballad was playing in the back of her head somewhere as she thought about not knowing what you had ’til it was gone.

Kirsten stiffened and looked ready to move into action if Ava didn’t say anything. It was no wonder. A six-foot-one man who looked like he could eat glass for breakfast if he got the craving, was standing frozen in their showroom. And Ava probably looked like a deer in headlights.

“John.” Ava breathed the word out, then shook herself to clear the fog. She waved a hand at Kirsten. “It’s all right. John’s an old friend.”

She thought she saw something flicker in his eyes at the words, but if it had been anything more than her imagination, it was gone.

“Um…” Ava looked around the showroom. One of her salespeople was on the other side of the store helping an older gentleman pick out a bracelet for his granddaughter. Kirsten was still staring at her and John.

Ava swung a hand in the direction of the workshop and offices at the back of the store. “We could, um…”

Thankfully, John nodded, seemingly unconcerned at the fact she couldn’t seem to get a sentence out that didn’t include “um.” Scratch that, she hadn’t actually gotten a complete sentence out, period.

She went to the back, hoping to pass right through the workshop where her sister, Janna, designed most of the jewelry they carried. They had other artisans who worked for them, repairing jewelry and watches and such, but Janna was their only bench jeweler. Anything in their cases that her sister didn’t make was ordered from jewelry wholesalers or outside artisans.

Janna stood at her bench, the spotlights that surrounded her all aimed at a four-inch square space in front of her as her hands worked with small samplings of metals and gems. Janna had a habit of getting lost in her work, but today when Ava hoped she might do just that, her sister looked up.

Janna’s eyes went from Ava to John and back to Ava in a comic demonstration of her surprise at seeing a man with Ava.

Yeah, it was somewhat of a shock to Ava, too.

“John, this is my sister, Janna. Janna, John and I were friends in college.” Ava watched as Janna’s eyes went wide.

John smiled and nodded. Whether he remembered Ava mentioning Janna’s issues with anxiety when they dated, or he just read people really well, she didn’t know. But for whatever reason, he didn’t offer his hand to Janna to shake. That was good. It was what Janna was more comfortable with.

Janna looked to Ava. “Big John?”

Oh Lord.

Ava’s cheeks flamed hot, and she knew they must be red. She and Janna shared everything, which meant Janna knew all about the John Ava had dated in college. She just hadn’t expected Janna to put the man standing before her together with their conversations about John in college. And yes, Janna had truly nicknamed him Big John in college, but it wasn’t for the reasons one might think.

Not that he couldn’t have earned the nickname that way. Back in the day, one of Ava’s friends had described John’s body as “call him if you need your house moved over a few inches” kind of big. She wasn’t wrong.

Ava put her hands to her cheeks, and a small semblance of a laugh slipped from her lips. She dodged John’s smiling eyes and Janna’s impish grin without answering and led the way back to her office.

She could try to explain to John that Janna had given him the nickname because that was how he’d seemed to her at the time. Ava had talked about John so much when they were dating that Janna had labeled him “big” in Ava’s world.

She didn’t know how to say all that without making the whole situation worse, though, so she clamped down on her lips, imprisoning them between her teeth as she shut the door behind them.

The look he gave her told her he was enjoying this far too much.

“For your information,” she said, crossing her arms, “Big John is another John. Not you. It’s…” she didn’t have any ideas… “someone else.”

“Uh-huh.” He matched her crossed arms and let a smile cross his face.

Dark Secrets

Grace didn’t usually spray luminol and pull out her black light when she entered a motel room. But today she held the light up and frowned at the blood revealed by the generously applied chemiluminescent.

Old blood was everywhere. Small spots peeked out from under the edge of the bed where the old polyester blanket touched the carpeting. It looked to Grace as though something had happened in that spot and the bed had simply been moved.

In one corner, another streak of luminol glowed cautiously, the remnant of a merely passable scrubbing. Some of the luminescent spots revealed that her suspicions had been correct about the old carpeting, about this motel room, and about the stains.

Crap. This was the last thing she needed. She’d requested this room specifically. She didn’t always spray Luminol and pull out her black light when she rented a room. Then again, she couldn’t recall ever renting a room this awful in her life. She could imagine Jimmy here, though. If he was on one of his serious benders this would be nothing. Unfortunately, that meant there was nothing obvious here that supported her theory about her brother. She’d have to wait for lab results.

“Oh, Jimmy,” she lamented out loud to the dark room. “What did you get yourself into?”

The way her heart clenched couldn’t be stopped. No matter what the room looked like, no matter what she might be able to prove, none of it would change the facts. Jimmy was dead. Gone, after a life that had been a struggle from the beginning and continued to be one well into adulthood. Grace blinked back the tears that threatened.

Many people didn’t know what it was like having an addict in their lives. They were lucky. Addicts stole, they lied, they betrayed. And they often left you with only one option—completely cutting yourself off. She hadn’t been able to do it. Neither had her parents. So they’d all suffered alongside her little brother.

But, dammit, she’d really thought these last five years had seen a turnaround. He’d been clean and four months shy of his five-year chip. But the Dark Falls Police Department had written of Jimmy’s death as just another junkie overdose. Case closed.

Grace wasn’t buying it. Jimmy wasn’t using again. She knew it. She’d spoken to him just a few days before he died.

No one would believe her. No one did. Even her parents were skeptical, but she believed. She’d lived with Jimmy, and watched him turn to alcohol at age ten, then cocaine at thirteen, she’d gotten good at spotting the signs. Lots of siblings did. Sometimes parents tried to deny it. They turned their kids away, or they made up excuses and always believed the best. But siblings of addicts had a radar for it. Their investment was entirely different from a parental bond.

Grace knew. She’d talked about it in Al-Anon meetings. She’d gone steadily for almost two years, then off and on for another handful. The siblings of addicts all had similar stories. They knew. They could tell when their brothers or sisters were using again. Grace couldn’t count the number of times someone had showed up at a meeting with a suspicion, then even several months later said, “I was right.”

She’d had that feeling about Jimmy before. It happened the first time he’d gotten clean. He’d stayed clean for six months before relapsing. The second time—after their parents had paid to put him through an expensive rehab program—he’d stayed clean a year and a half. But Grace knew that his eighteen-month chip was an excuse to celebrate, to think he’d been cured only to have him slide back. But she didn’t have that feeling. Not this time. The third time seemed to have stuck.

Jimmy had moved to Dark Falls, something their mother had protested with every fiber of her being. He should be close to home. Part Vietnamese, part Chinese, and gay as the day was long, Jimmy wanted to get out of the South. Grace understood. She’d supported him. They texted daily, and she talked to him just a few days before he died. She did not believe he was using again.

She’d even demanded a full autopsy. She checked off her mental list as she looked around the room at the various splotches her quick test had revealed. She’d want samples of them all. Jimmy’s death was listed as an overdose. Had there been fresh blood, the police wouldn’t have been able to write it off so easily.

Grace had only pulled out the Luminol on a whim when she’d seen the dark patches in the carpeting. It could have been wine or cheap beer, but her senses told her to test it. Shit. She looked around behind her, holding the light up. A lot of it was faint, old, but she needed to know what it was.

She had her work cut out for her.

After gathering samples from at least five spots around the room—samples that she highly suspected would be all different—she turned off her black light and clicked the regular light back on.

Surveying the horrible room she didn’t want to be in, she pulled out her phone and called her oftentimes partner, Brad, back home. “Brad, I was right.”

Author Bio:

Savannah Kade grew up in East Tennessee and started writing when she was only 8 years old. It was a romance for the ages, but it will never see the light of day. She's been writing ever since and fighting for heroines who are quirky but not dumb, heroes who are real men, and for love stories that are more than just a cute trope. She now lives outside of Nashville with her amazing husband and 2 kids. She can usually be found working on her next novel.

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Lori Ryan is a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author who writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance with steamy love scenes and characters you won't want to leave in the pages when the story is over.

Lori published her first novel in April of 2013 and ​has fallen in love with writing. ​She is the author of the Sutton Capital Series; the Heroes of Evers, Texas; and the Triple Play Curse Novellas, a set of novellas with sexy baseball players at their core as part of Bella Andre's Game For Love Kindle World. She has also published in Melanie Shawn's Hope Falls Kindle World and in Robyn Peterman's Magic and Mayhem Kindle World.

She lives with an extremely understanding husband, three wonderful children, and two mostly well-behaved dogs in Austin, Texas. It's a bit of a zoo, but she wouldn't change a thing. She loves to connect with her readers. Follow her on Facebook or Twitter or subscribe to her blog.

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Spotlight: Shadow's Keep by Meghan O'Flynn


Shadow's Keep
by Meghan O'Flynn
Genre: Crime Thriller

FROM THE BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF FAMISHED

Dark and intense, with an M. Night Shyamalan-level twist.”
~Kristen Mae, bestselling author of the Conch Garden series


OLD SINS. NEW BLOOD.

Deputy Sheriff William Shannahan doesn’t feel like a detective, at least not like the ones he admires on TV. Not that he needs to be; the small town of Graybel, Mississippi, is a peaceful place, with acres of farmland, neighbors who always take care of their own, and noise from the outside world muted by a hundred miles of forest.

That silence is about to be broken.

When a child is found dead in the woods, the medical examiner deems it a dog attack. But the paw prints belong to something far larger than any creature in the Mississippi forests, and what animal would remove the victim’s eyes? Though no one believes him, William can’t shake the feeling that a human killer lurks in the shadowed woods.

And his girlfriend, Cassie, has a son the same age as the victim.

Cassie Parker was raised amid horrors she’s long pushed from her mind, but her scars won’t let her forget. Nor do the hallucinations, dreams so vivid she can feel and smell and taste them. And no one is more terrified than Cassie when another victim is found mauled to death—because this body has been drained of blood. She knows exactly what type of person would sacrifice a child, and why they’re after hers. But how can she explain it to William?

This is William’s chance to act like a detective, to protect the woman and child he’s desperate to save. Pushing back against prejudice and presumption, he uncovers a trail of cruelty that spans decades, but each clue brings him closer to a truth more horrifying than killer beasts in the forest. For concealed beneath small-town politics is knowledge that will shatter everything he knows to be true about his town—and the people in it.



A compulsively readable thriller in the vein of CujoThe Girl on the Train, and M. Night Shyamalan’s The VillageShadow’s Keep is a mind-bending exploration of obsession, desperation, and how far we’ll go to protect those we love.








Meghan O'Flynn is a clinical therapist, writer, artist, wife, and mom. She adores her amazing little boys, dark chocolate, tea, dirty jokes, and back rubs with no strings attached, in that order. Meghan is the bestselling author of The Jilted, Shadow's Keep, and the Ash Park series--which includes Famished, Conviction, Repressed, Hidden and Redemption--and has penned a number of short stories including "Crimson Snow" and "Alien Landscape." She is frankly amazed that her wonderful husband still agrees to live with her after reading them and even more shocked that he seems to sleep soundly.



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Read an excerpt from Firsts: Coming of Age Stories By People With Disabilities by Belo Miguel Cipriani

Take a step back in time with some of the best writers with disabilities as they recount their first adventure, their first heartbreak, and the first time the unexpected treaded into their life. From body transformations to social setbacks, to love affairs and family trauma, Firsts collects the most thought-provoking and exciting stories of our time by people with disabilities. Contributors include Nigel David Kelly, Kimberly Gerry-Tucker, Caitlin Hernandez, Andrew Gurza, and David-Elijah Nahmod.

Excerpt

At age nine, severe rheumatoid arthritis hijacked my life. The disease’s rapid course over the next few years ravaged my joints, making it difficult to walk, wash my hair -- even put on a shirt. I could no longer do things I’d previously done with ease. My mom became my primary caregiver.

To outsiders, she appeared the stereotypical doting parent of a disabled child, the perfect mothering figure. But behind closed doors, my mom had another side. She seemed to struggle with inner demons that could not be tamed. On a good day, she was simply irritable. On bad days, her moods fluctuated between agitation, anger and blind rage. The slightest thing could set her off: an unexpected change of plans, a minor disappointment, or an innocent comment taken the wrong way.

I always thought of my mom’s right index finger as her “witch finger.” The tip of it was half the size of the others and was cloven with a nasty surgical scar, the result of a childhood infection. She often shouted while thrusting her witch finger in the air, bouncing it to and fro with each syllable uttered. It seemed her way of letting others

know she was the self-appointed disciplinarian of the human race -- in case her steady string of pre-judgments and priggish sensibilities weren’t enough. When she was aiming the witch finger at someone else, I secretly delighted in the display of indignation. When aimed at me, I felt profoundly lost and sad, like a motherless child.

For a small woman, my mother’s footfalls were thundering. I could hear her walking from nearly any corner of the house. It was as if her mission in life was to stomp the devil back down to hell. She was deceptively strong. She could lift heavy objects and

scoot large appliances across the floor. Many times, she cut the lawn to help out my dad, pushing the mower with a ferocity I admired. Few of the other moms in our neighborhood were willing to so boldly step out of their assigned gender roles.

My mother was a straight-laced, dry Methodist, and her laces were often stretched to the brink. She had no middle ground. It was impossible for her to utter the adjective “red” without preceding it with “fiery.” Night was “pitch black,” and winter days, “freezing cold.” She loved things, never liked them; hated things, never simply disliked them. She pronounced experiences as “absolutely fantastic” or “terrible, horrible.”

Despite her demons, there were times when she cared for me with thoughtful tenderness. Yet even on those days, I tried my best to stay on her good side. Take my word for it; you don’t want to piss off the person who wipes your ass.

As a kid, I had no clue her baffling mood swings were symptomatic of a personality disorder. I didn’t know that cruel mental demons sometimes made her life unbearable. I only knew I did not want to fuck with her. And the worst possible way to fuck with my mom was to upset her Queen Anne furniture, matching napkin rings, garden club flower shows, and Laura Ashley way of life.

A couple years after my diagnosis, it was clear my disease had no plans to depart. It had entrenched itself like an unwanted houseguest. Climbing the stairs up to my room became impossible. Each night, my dad had to haul me up like a sack of potatoes and back down the next morning….

Dark Clouds

By Nigel David Kelly

I have always tried to live my life by the old Greek saying: a healthy mind in a healthy body.

Until my mid-forties, I seemed to be succeeding in this. But it was when I reached this stage of my life that an initially small, dark cloud started to appear on my horizon. It took the form of increasing hearing loss in my right ear, along with tinnitus. Now for

those of you unfamiliar with what that is, it is a noise in your ear that never goes away. It can be any sound -- most often it is a ringing or buzzing noise. In my case, I can only describe it as I did so often to my wife and to my doctor: it felt like I had a hole in my ear and someone was blowing cold air into it. So I had the physical sensation of having a

hole in my ear and the cold, plus the noise of blowing wind.

As you can imagine, this is very distracting and affects your ability to do even an ordinary, everyday thing like watch TV. And it makes it difficult to get to sleep. However, as years passed, I started to get used to it, and was able to reach the point where I could live with it.

Of course, I had mentioned this to my doctor, but he said I was just getting older and hearing loss was normal and to be expected. But in my mid-forties, I did not think I was old, and I certainly didn’t feel old.

In fact, physically, I was in great shape. I have always been into physical fitness and sports. When I was young(er), I was into martial arts and bodybuilding. By the time I had reached my mid-forties, I had gotten into powerlifting. I had always enjoyed exercising and weight training and I would work out intensely. My wife told me she

couldn’t watch me train as it frightened her. So I was always very physically driven and it meant a lot to me. It was just part of my DNA.

Even as a small boy, I would go around lifting things like stones and gas

cylinders. I had no idea what I was doing. I just did it. When I was nine years old, I could lift a thirty-three-pound cylinder above my head with one hand. So I was naturally strong. I was also big for my age. By the time I entered high school, I was five feet, eight inches tall. However, what I did not realize then was that while I was one of the biggest boys in my year, and as tall as, or taller than, many of the male teachers, I would not actually

grow any taller. In my late teens, when I got into bodybuilding, I read an article that said research showed men who reached their full adult height early, were generally very strong. So, that was the case with me.

I remember arm wrestling a teacher at my school when I was twelve. He was in the army part time and regarded himself as strong and fit, and justifiably so. He had to declare it a draw.

I couldn’t wait for my next workout to see what I could do. Add another rep; add another pound to the bar. If I couldn’t train for even a few days, I would become restless, even anxious.

I put equal time and energy into my mind. I had studied most of my life; I enjoyed it and would often be doing three or even four courses at the same time. By my mid- forties, I was an honors graduate, a published author and member of Mensa. Mensa is a high IQ society. You have to sit for an intellectual evaluation exam and achieve an IQ (intelligence quota) within the top two percent of the population. I discovered I have a genius-level IQ….

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About the Author

Belo Miguel Cipriani is a columnist with the Bay Area Reporter. In 2017, his column on disability issues was recognized by the National Center on Disability and Journalism at the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism at Arizona State University.

He is the author of Blind: A Memoir (2011), which received an Honorable Mention for Best Nonfiction Book by the 2011 Rainbow Awards, and an Honorable Mention for Best Culture Book by the 2012 Eric Hoffer Awards.

He has received fellowships from Lambda Literary and Yaddo, and was the first blind writer to attend the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. Cipriani has guest lectured at Yale University, University of San Francisco, and University of Wisconsin at Whitewater, and was the Writer-in-Residence at Holy Names University from 2012 to 2016.

His writing has appeared in several publications, including the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, San Francisco Chronicle, Houston Chronicle, San Antonio Express-News, Business Insider, and HuffPost. He was a contributor to the Ed Baxter Morning Show on iHeart Radio, and was also a frequent commentator on San Francisco’s KGO Radio, as well as on several NPR shows.

Cipriani has received numerous awards for his disability advocacy work, including being named “Best Disability Advocate” by SF Weekly (2015), an “Agent of Change” by HuffPost (2015), and an “ABC7 Star” by KGO-TV (2016). He was also honored as the first blind Grand Marshal at San Francisco’s 45th Annual Gay Pride Parade.

He currently works at the Center for Academic Excellence at Metropolitan State University in St. Paul, MN, where he helps students improve their writing skills.

Connect: Website | Facebook | Twitter: @beloism

Spotlight: Five Years Gone by Marie Force

Today we are celebrating the release of FIVE YEARS GONE, a romantic standalone title by New York Times Bestselling author Marie Force. Check out some teasers and an excerpt for the book below.

 

FIVE YEARS GONE by Marie Force

Available Now

ABOUT THE BOOK:

The most brazen terrorist attack in history. A country bent on revenge. A love affair cut short. A heart that never truly heals.

I knew on the day of the attack that our lives were changed forever. What I didn’t know then was that I’d never see John again after he deployed. One day he was living with me, sleeping next to me, making plans with me. The next day he was gone.

That was five years ago. The world has moved on from that awful day, but I’m stuck in my own personal hell, waiting for a man who may be dead for all I know. At my sister’s wedding, I meet Eric, the brother of the groom, and my heart comes alive once again.

The world is riveted by the capture of the terrorist mastermind, brought down by U.S. Special Forces in a daring raid. Now I am trapped between hoping I’ll hear from John and fearing what’ll become of my new life with Eric if I do.

From a New York Times bestselling author, Five Years Gone, a standalone contemporary, is an epic story of love, honor, duty, unbearable choices and impossible dilemmas.

PURCHASE IT NOW!

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PURCHASE IN AUDIO: Amazon | Audible US | Audible UK | Audible AU

 

Read this excerpt from Five Years Gone.

Prologue Ava We met in a bar, of all places, a dingy hole-in-the-wall favored by military members from the nearby Navy base in San Diego. I went with a friend from school who was interested in one of the military guys. Before that night, I’d never been there, and I’ve never been back. John was celebrating the promotion of one of his buddies. He crashed into me as I left the ladies’ room and kept me from falling by grabbing my arms to steady me. Just like in the movies, our eyes met, and my spine tingled with the kind of instantaneous awareness I’d only read about but never experienced personally. “I’m so sorry,” he said, gorgeous and fierce in his fatigues. I noticed gold on his collar, a hint of late-day scruff on his jaw and the name WEST in bold black letters on his chest. Intense electric-blue eyes made it impossible for me to look away, even when I was safely back on my feet. “Are you all right?” he asked. Realizing I’d been staring at him, I blinked and reluctantly broke the connection. “I… Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for the save.” And then he smiled, and the tingling began anew. “I’m John.” I shook his outstretched hand. “Ava.” Keeping his hold on my hand, he tipped his head. “You come here often?” “Never,” I said, laughing. “I’m a first-timer.” “What do you think so far?” “I wasn’t impressed until about thirty seconds ago.” As if he had all the time in the world to give me, he leaned against the wall. “Is that right? What happened thirty seconds ago?” I thought about taking back my hand but didn’t. “I was saved from certain disaster by a man in uniform.” “The guy in the uniform is the reason you needed saving in the first place, because he wasn’t watching where he was going. Least he can do is buy you a drink.” “I wouldn’t say no to that.” I was proud of my witty responses and got the feeling he could more than hold his own in the wittiness department. Across the crowded room, I noticed my friend talking to the guy she’d come to see, and her brows lifted in interest when she saw me with John. He guided me to the bar, placing a proprietary hand on my lower back, and told one of the guys to give me his stool. “Yes, sir.” The younger man bowed gallantly to me as he took his beer and moved along. “Do people always do what you say?” “If they know what’s good for them.” His teasing grin kept the comment from being overly cocky. “What can I get you?” Deciding to live dangerously for once, I asked for a cosmopolitan. “Go big or go home,” he said with admiration. “That’s my motto.” I was so full of shit. I wondered if he could tell I was all talk or what he’d think of me if he knew I usually err much closer to the side of caution than the wild side. I wondered if he could tell I was just barely old enough to drink. I’d turned twenty-one only six months earlier. When my cosmo and his Budweiser had been delivered, he offered a toast. “To new friends.” I touched my glass to his bottle. “To new friends.” “So, where’re you from, Ava?” “New York.” “I thought I heard New Yawk in your voice.” I batted my eyelashes at him. “So four years at the University of California San Diego didn’t scrub the New York out of me?” Laughing, he said, “Hardly. I know some guys from New York. One of them is from Staten Island, which is about as New York as it gets. I know New York when I hear it.” “I’m from Purchase, upstate from the city. What about you?” “I’m from all over. My old man is a retired general. You name it, I’ve lived there.” “Where’s home?” “Right here.” He turned that intense gaze on me, and I went stupid in the head. I couldn’t see anything but him. We might as well have been alone in the crowded bar for all I knew. Unlike my friend, who loved men in uniform, I was never turned on by the uniform. Until then. Until John. “You want to get out of here?” I swallowed hard. It wasn’t like me to leave a bar with a man I’d just met. “And go where?” “Somewhere we can talk.” “What do you want to talk about?” He leaned in so his lips were close to my ear. “Everything. I want to know every single thing there is to know about you.”   That’s how we started. We were intense from the first second we met until the last time I saw him five years ago today. I can’t believe it’s been five years since I looked into those incredible blue eyes or woke to him on the pillow next to me or heard his voice in my ear, whispering words that’re permanently carved into my heart as he made love to me. The worst part is I have no idea where he is. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, being held captive or if he’s living his life somewhere else with someone else. I don’t know, and the not knowing is the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with. I love him as much today as I ever did. No amount of time could ever change that simple fact of my life. We had two beautiful, magnificent years together, caught up in our own little bubble. He never met my family. I never met his. We didn’t make couple friends. We didn’t talk about the future. We didn’t need to. Our future was decided that first night, and it would take care of itself in due time. I honestly and naïvely believed that. Now, with hindsight, I realize the bubble was strategic on his part. He gave me everything he had to give, including no promise of tomorrow. Five years ago today, we watched the horror unfold on live television. A US-based cruise ship blown up by suicide bombers. Four thousand lives extinguished in a heartbeat. Our world permanently changed once again, our country declaring yet another war on terrorists. After 9/11 we thought we’d seen everything. We were wrong. “I have to go,” he said, grabbing the duffel that stood ready in the front hall closet. He called it his “go bag.” I’d thought nothing of it. “Where’re you going?” “I don’t know.” “When will you be back?” “I don’t know that either.” He held my face in his hands and gazed at me, seemingly trying to memorize my every feature. “I love you. I’ll always love you.” Then he kissed me as passionately as he ever had and was gone, out the door in a flash of camouflage. I never saw him again. I’m not his wife or even his fiancée, so no one notified me of his whereabouts. And three months after he left, when I found a way onto the base in a desperate quest for information, no one there could tell me anything either. I tried to locate his parents and other people he mentioned, but it was like they didn’t exist. I could find no record of a retired general named West in the Marine Corps, Army or Air Force. Furthermore, an exhaustive search for information on the John West I had known led nowhere. No high school, no college, no military service, no nothing. Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed the two years we spent together, doing mundane things like grocery shopping, cooking, watching TV and sleeping together after long days at work. But then I’d remember the blissful passion, the scorching pleasure, the desire that ruled us from the beginning, and I’d know I didn’t dream him. I didn’t dream us. We were real, and he was everything to me. Sitting on the floor in our apartment, surrounded by boxes, I take a few minutes before the movers arrive to memorize every detail of the place where we lived together. I’ve packed his things along with mine, and I’m moving home to New York. Today was my deadline. I gave it five years, and I simply can’t do it anymore. I can’t sit in our home among our things, waiting for something that’s never going to happen. It’s over. It’s time for me to move on. It’s probably long past time, if I’m being honest with myself. And though I know it’s the right move at the right time, that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t shattering all over again as I dismantle the place where we were us. My sister is getting married next month. I promised her I’d be home in time to hold her hand through the festivities. Other than occasional trips home for holidays and other occasions, I’ve been gone more than ten years. I bear no resemblance whatsoever to the girl who left home at eighteen seeking independence from her overbearing family at a faraway college out West. I accomplished all my goals, finishing college, landing a decent job and falling in love with the man of my dreams. I found out what happens when dreams come true and how painful it is when they blow up in your face. It’s time now to set new goals, to start over, to begin a life that doesn’t have John at the center of it the way it did here. It’ll be nice to be back with people who love me and care about me, even if they tend toward smothering at times. That’s looking rather good to me after years of loneliness and grief. The intercom sounds to let me know the movers are here. I pick myself up off the floor and steel my heart for the day ahead. I can do this. I’ve been through worse, and I’ll survive this the same way I’ve survived everything else. Despite my resolve, my eyes fill with tears as I press the button that opens the door downstairs to the movers. It doesn’t take them long to pack my belongings into their truck. I keep with me the things that can’t be replaced—precious photos, gifts he gave me, the clothing he left behind. After taking a final look around the apartment, I pack those boxes into my car, turn my apartment keys into the leasing office and head east, feeling as if I’m leaving behind everything that ever mattered to me. It’s like I’m losing him all over again. I cry all the way through the desert of Southern California and well into Arizona. I relive every minute I can remember, every conversation, every special moment. I think about what it was like to make love with him and wonder how I’ll ever to do that with anyone but him. Maybe I won’t. Maybe that part of my life ended with him, and even though I’m only twenty-eight now, I’m okay with that possibility. Once you’ve experienced perfection, it’s hard to imagine settling for anything less. The tears finally dry up somewhere in northern Arizona, but the ache inside… I take that with me all the way to New York, where I will try my very best to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and put them back together into some new version of myself. After all, what choice do I have?

 

ADD FIVE YEARS GONE TO GOODREADS

 

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AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Marie Force is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance, including the indie-published Gansett Island Series and the Fatal Series from Harlequin Books. In addition, she is the author of the Butler, Vermont Series, the Green Mountain Series and the erotic romance Quantum Series. In 2019, her new historical Gilded series from Kensington Books will debut with Duchess By Deception.

All together, her books have sold 6.5 million copies worldwide, have been translated into more than a dozen languages and have appeared on the New York Times bestseller list many times. She is also a USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller, a Speigel bestseller in Germany, a frequent speaker and publishing workshop presenter as well as a publisher through her Jack’s House Publishing romance imprint. She is a two-time nominee for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA® award for romance fiction.

Her goals in life are simple—to finish raising two happy, healthy, productive young adults, to keep writing books for as long as she possibly can and to never be on a flight that makes the news.

Join Marie's mailing list for news about new books and upcoming appearances in your area. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter @marieforce and on Instagram. Join one of Marie's many reader groups. Contact Marie at marie@marieforce.com.

 

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter | Goodreads

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InkSlinger Blogger Final

Read an excerpt from Mistletoe Miracles by Jodi Thomas

A small-town Texas Christmas story, where hearts are lost, love is found, and family always brings you back home.

Griffin Holloway is desperate: the Maverick Ranch has been in his family for generations, but lately, it’s a money pit. He’d sooner marry one of his horses than sell the ranch. Marriage, though, could be a solution. If he can woo a wealthy bride, he might save the ranch—just in time for Christmas.

Jaxon O’Grady likes his solitude just fine, thank you very much. But when a car accident brings the unexpected to his door, he realizes just how much one person can need another.

Crossroads is the perfect place for Jamie Johnson: avoiding nosy questions about why she’s single, she’s happy to keep to her lakeside home. So she’s baffled when she gets the strangest Christmas present of all, in the form of a Mr. Johnson, asleep on her sofa. Who is he, and why does everyone think he’s her husband?

In this uplifting novel, three unlikely couples discover just what Crossroads, Texas, can offer: romance, belonging, and plenty of Christmas spirit.

Excerpt

Cooper frowned. “What’s so important, Griff? I got thirty head lost out in Mistletoe Canyon. They need to be found and herded to the north pasture before it gets too late for me to get some fishing in.”

Elliot nodded. “I got calls to make. The market’s down and what little cash we had in reserve seems to be evaporating.”

“All right.” Griffin straightened, facing his problem head-on. “It’s simple. The ranch is broke. We’ve got two months to come up with the loan payment and all I see is money going out.”

“We’re always broke.” Elliot shrugged. “We’ll find a way to pay the loan come January. We always do. Sell cattle or gravel, or lease a few sections out for winter wheat crops.”

Closing his eyes, Griffin ran through the long list of things they’d tried before. A few, like leasing land for grazing or farming, had helped get them through last winter. But others, like the expensive barn his fa­ther had once built to board racehorses that never came sell to city folks, hadn’t paid off.

Griffin frowned, knowing he was out of ideas. “There is no easy answer this time. Selling gravel or leasing wouldn’t be enough. Selling off our best breed­ing stock will only hurt us next spring. I see only one way out of the mess we’re in. One of us has got to get married.”

Glaring at Cooper, Griffin clarified, “And I’m not talking about someone like the new waitress at Doro­thy’s Café. One of us has to find a woman with money or land we can borrow on. I’m not particular as to which. We need fresh blood flowing into the Maver­ick Ranch.”

Cooper grinned. “Dang, Griff, you sound like we’re vampires. I don’t want to marry some girl for her money.”

Griffin realized how callous he sounded. “Of course we’d love her, treat her right and all that. It’s just time one of us got married, and her being rich wouldn’t hurt.”

Elliot looked up from his cell. “I was engaged dur­ing my freshman year of college to Bella Brantley, re­member? Her family owned a few blocks in downtown Dallas. But then Dad died and within six months I had to quit school and come home.” He glowered at Cooper. “She broke off the engagement after a weekend visit here. I blame him for that. One look at little brother and she didn’t want anything to do with our gene pool.”

“I wasn’t the reason. I was only a kid. That woman was a plague of problems.” Cooper puffed up like a horned toad. “I just took her for a ride across the place. It wasn’t my fault she kept falling off the horse. Then she got all crazy when I offered to rub liniment on her backside. Like I wasn’t being considerate or something. And that accidental bumping together in the hallway was her fault, not mine.”

Old anger fired in Elliot’s eyes.

Griffin stepped between them before a fight broke out, again. “I’m serious and I have a plan. Come hell or high water, one of us is walking a wealthy girl down the aisle before Christmas. We’re land rich and cash poor, and I see only one way to end that. Two months should be enough time to find a woman, date her, pro­pose and get married. Way I see it we won’t take any of her land or money. That wouldn’t be right. We’ll just borrow against her land to make the payment. Next spring we’ll make it back and pay her back.”

“That’s what you always say,” Cooper groaned. “We’re always living off next year’s money.”

“We could sell off a few sections,” Elliot suggested.

Both brothers stared at him so hard he took a step backward. Never selling land, any amount, had been drilled into them like it was the eleventh command­ment Moses forgot to write down.

“I’ll be long buried in Holloway dirt before I sell a square foot. It’s part of me. I might as well cut off a leg or an arm.” Griffin’s hands molded into fists.

“We get it, Griff. We feel the same. It was just an option.”

Griffin nodded once.

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About the Author

New York Times and USA Today’s bestselling author Jodi Thomas has published over 30 books in both the historical romance and contemporary genres, the majority of which are set in her home state of Texas. Publishers Weekly calls her novels “Distinctive…Memorable,” and that in her stories “[tension] rides high, mixed with humor and kisses more passionate than most full-on love scenes.” In 2006, Romance Writers of America (RITA) inducted Thomas into the RWA Hall of Fame for winning her third RITA for THE TEXAN’S REWARD. She also received the National Readers’ Choice Award in 2009 for TWISTED CREEK (2008) and TALL, DARK, AND TEXAN (2008). While continuing to work as a novelist, Thomas also functions as Writer in Residence at the West Texas A&M University campus, where she inspires students and alumni in their own writing pursuits.

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