Spotlight: American River: Tributaries: Book One of the American River Trilogy by Mallory M. O'Connor
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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.
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.
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.
GIVEAWAY!
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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.
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.
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Read this excerpt from Five Years Gone.

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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.
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