Spotlight: Within and Without by Deborah Maroulis

Publication Date: May 28, 2019

Publisher: Lakewater Press

Some people go to great lengths to fit in. But how far is too far?

After her parent’s divorce, sixteen-year-old Wren Newmann is forced to move from a small California town to her grandmother’s vineyard, where she’s convinced she’ll die a shriveled, wine-country virgin. Her dad’s gone AWOL, her mom’s hooking up with anything in pants, and her best friend has found the love of her life. Apart from the annoying but cute Greek farmhand Panayis, who doesn’t appear to notice her awkwardness or thunder thighs, Wren’s life has hit an all-time low.

That is until her own dating life improves unexpectedly when Jay, Wren’s long-time country crush, notices her. Yet it’s as if people don’t want her to be happy, with their warnings and advice that perhaps Jay isn’t the right guy for her. But they don’t know, and Wren’s done being Beached Whale Girl. She’s determined to become social, skinny, and sexy, because Jay wants her—every part of her.

Though her anxiety and secret purging sessions sing another warning that she finds hard to ignore. And when a series of personal tragedies strikes, Wren’s life is flipped upside down and she’s left to pick up the pieces of her broken relationships. Now, she must find the inner strength to decide if the illusion of being loved is worth sacrificing her health, and maybe even her life.

Excerpt

While the weekdays consist of thickening scars derived from high school wounds, weekends have become a peaceful respite from the noise of fake laughter and competing early morning parking lot music. Instead, the humming of the farm equipment accompanies the melody of the songbirds.

I click off my alarm two minutes before it’s set to ring, the light casting gray streaks on the walls and sideways shadows on the dolls lining them. I’ve never understood why the sun saves its best colors for the evening. Seems to me it’d have more energy for pretty things early on.

The house is silent—Granny’s probably already in the vineyards barking at her crew. God knows where Mom is. My stomach gurgles, and I move my tongue around my mouth and swallow as much saliva as I can generate. Familiar tension creeps through my ribs and squeezes my lungs. Sitting up, I slide my journal from under my pillow and hold it close to my chest. Its slick, cold cover pressed against me pushes away the dread. I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly, letting the air and spit be enough nutrition for now.

The aroma of bacon and griddle cakes waft through the cracks of the old house, and my stomach churns. I move around my tongue and swallow again. Tucking my legs under me, I open my journal to an empty page and record my food allotment and exercise routine. The more I write, the less I shake.

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About the Author

Born and raised in a small town in Northern California, Deborah Maroulis is lucky enough to surround herself with the things and people she loves. She teaches English and mythology at her local community college, studies myth and depth psychology in her Ph.D. program, and writes contemporary Young Adult novels. She lives in a slightly bigger town than the one she grew up in with her husband, newly-adult children, and her daughter’s very spoiled, semi-retired service dog.You can find her on Twitter as @yaddathree or through her website, deborahmaroulis.com.

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Spotlight: Smooth Moves by Marie Harte

Ex-Marine Cash Griffith is a beacon for trouble. Working for the family moving company, he does his best to keep a low profile, but he can’t help finishing a fight someone else starts. There’s one person at work who annoys and baffles him. But if he even thought about taking her on, she’d put him down. Hard. Which is a real problem, because Cash wants nothing more than to tangle with sexy Jordan Fleming.

The ex-Army MP has her hands full with her new job and her rebellious teenage brother. Getting him through summer school is a chore. Figuring out what to do with her life now that she’s a civilian is disheartening. But one thing she lives for—doing battle with the obnoxious, arrogant, incredibly hot Marine at work.

Their battles turn into true camaraderie, then into something more. Helping each other out with family problems, Cash and Jordan learn to trust each other. One kiss leads to another, and friendship starts turning to love. But when dangerous secrets come to light, their bond will either break or strengthen into a future they both deserve.   

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About the Author

Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Marie Harte has over 100 books published with more constantly on the way. She’s a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking in Central Oregon, biking around town, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after. Visit http://marieharte.com and fall in love.

Spotlight: The Wicked Viscount by Heather McCollum

1685, Scottish Highlands

Cat Campbell knows all about Nathaniel Worthington, fifth Viscount of Lincolnshire. The determined Englishman is never far from Finlarig Castle, where his sisters train women to do more than read and write. And thanks to the fiery kiss they shared nearly a year ago he is never far from her thoughts. No one ever trained her how to forget an irresistible man.

Nathaniel knows he should keep his distance from the fierce Scottish lass, but when an urgent letter from Queen Catherine calls Cat to London, he can’t resist volunteering to escort her. The tension between the two has simmered for months, but the long journey in close quarters creates a raging wildfire that could burn them both.

Secrets of their past and the treachery lurking at court put both their future together and their very lives at risk.

Excerpt

“An ache has plagued me from the moment I sat in that damnably cramped carriage across from a temptress for two bloody long days.”

Cat’s breath stuttered to a halt. She swallowed, rubbing her lips together. Lord, how she wanted him, and here he was before her, locked away from the rest of the judgmental world. A vision of Esther Stanton stopped her from reaching for him. “I am sure there are others who would like to help ye with your ache,” she whispered.

Nathaniel lifted one of her curls, inhaling it as if he was starving and the curl was a delectable treat. He touched a finger to her forehead and traced a light line down her nose, touching her lips and chin before continuing down the naked skin of her low-cut neckline. Chill bumps speckled her entire body, her nipples peaking against the linen of her smock under her gown. “Damn,” he closed his eyes as if struggling. “All day I have met with old acquaintances and dry, pompous men. Listening to philosophy and political theories and business ventures.” He opened his eyes. “The whole time, I could not stop thinking of you, Cat Campbell.”

Her breath caught in her chest as she watched him. She drew in a shallow inhale. “Me?” He looked tortured. “I was searching for no other tonight, Cat.” Nathaniel dropped his hand, shaking his head. “Tell me to leave,” he said. “There are things that we have not discussed yet.” He glanced upward at the ceiling, a tightening of pain over his face. “And we must keep your reputation above reproof so that you can move in the duchess’s and the queen’s circles.”

“The king has already seen us together,” she whispered. Her voice sounded different, as if she didn’t have enough breath. She couldn’t stop her hand from reaching to rest on his strong arm. “And right now…we are just a man and a lass. Not English and Scot. Not Viscount and peasant.” His gaze slid from her eyes to her slightly parted lips and then up again to her eyes. The strength of the wall at Cat’s back was the only thing holding her up as her knees weakened. She breathed evenly despite the racing of her heart and the heating of her blood. He had an ache, but could it be as torturous as the one she’d been trying to ignore all night?

“If ye think of me and no others, and we are alone now in my room with the door locked, why must ye stay away from me?” Cat’s hand slid up to his shoulder, her fingers curling into the weave of his tailored jacket. She pulled herself up onto her toes to press her lips against his, stopping any paltry answer he might give. Parting to look at him, she let the desire coursing through her reflect in her gaze and pressed her softness against his hardness, marveling in the contrast. “Believe me when I say that I ache, too.” She let her gaze drop to his strong jaw. “From the blasted moment ye kissed me, incoherent with fever.” She looked back up to his eyes. “Ye damn Englishman.”

Her breath caught as Nathaniel’s powerful arms lifted her against him. One of his hands spanned her back, the other holding under her backside. “God, Cat,” he murmured against her lips. “I cannot get you out of my blood.”

“I am quite bloodthirsty,” she murmured back as he fitted her snuggly against him. She tried to lift her legs and remembered that she wore a full gown, the stays encircling her as if in iron. “And I have way too many clothes on.”

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About the Author

Heather McCollum is an award winning, historical romance writer. She currently has seventeen published novels and is a member of the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood of 2009 Golden Heart finalists. She is a 2015 Readers’ Choice winner and a member of Heart of Carolina Romance Writers.

The ancient magic and lush beauty of Great Britain entranced Ms. McCollum’s heart and imagination when she visited there years ago. The country’s history and landscape have been a backdrop for her writing ever since.

When she is not creating vivid characters and settings, she spends her time educating women on the symptoms of Ovarian Cancer. She has recently slayed the cancer beast and resides with her very own Highland hero and three spirited children in the wilds of suburbia on the mid-Atlantic coast.

Connect:

Site: https://www.heathermccollum.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HeatherMcCollumAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/HMcCollumAuthor

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4185696.Heather_McCollum

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Cover Reveal: The Hollow Queen by Sherry D. Ficklin

The Hollow Queen
Sherry D. Ficklin
(Stolen Empire, #5)
Published by: Clean Teen Publishing
Publication date: September 23rd 2019
Genres: Historical, Young Adult

As a princess of the Romanov Empire, Elizabeth has enjoyed a life of luxury and privilege. But the sudden deaths of her parents leaves her unprotected – awash in the dangerous tide of her family’s political rivals. When the supreme council crowns her half-nephew Peter II in her place, Elizabeth is left with no title, no power—and no allies. Now little more than a bastard in the eyes of the world, she is sent to serve in the palatial home of Prince Menshikov—the real power behind the boy king.

But Elizabeth won’t fade quietly into the background.

Determined to uncover the truth behind her mother’s murder and expose the men who mean to rule Russia in secret, she grows closer to the handsome young king, and swears to protect him and his rule at any cost. But the forces that oppose them are as dark as they are far-reaching–and this time, Elizabeth could lose more than just her title…

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Author Bio:

Sherry is the author of over a dozen novels for teens and young adults including the best selling Stolen Empire series. She can often be found browsing her local bookstore with a large white hot chocolate in one hand and a towering stack of books in the other. That is, unless she's on deadline at which time she, like the Loch Ness monster, is only seen in blurry photographs.
Sherry also writes contemporary romance under the pen name SJ Noble. You can find her at her official website, www.sherryficklin.com, or stalk her on her Facebook page www.facebook.com/sherry.ficklin.

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Spotlight: Who’s a Good Boy by Ada Scott

Who’s a Good Boy
Ada Scott
Publication date: May 24th 2019
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense

Hazel Rivera was an untouchable small-town princess… but that summer five years ago, she was mine.

All it took was a few hours of hell to destroy the heaven we built. I left Shippensburg with nothing but the shirt on my back and my dog at my side. Leave or die, and ruin the lives of everybody I cared about at the same time. There was no choice.

Now I’m back. I need to find out how she could have done that to us, but somehow she’s got the nerve to be pissed at me? And why does her daughter have my eyes?

I’ll get my answers, make her remember how she used to run her tongue over my abs and dig her nails into my back, then I’ll leave this damn town forever.

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—

EXCERPT:

Hazel nodded enthusiastically and held the plate in my direction. I took a brownie and Chopper whined at the brutal injustice of it all.

While chewing, I tried to maintain a poker-face, but under the scrutiny of Hazel and Chopper, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Mmmm… ok, all is forgiven.”

Relief visibly washed over Hazel’s face, and sweet holy fuck what a beautiful face it was. Maybe she wasn’t the unfathomable angel I had assumed from a distance. Maybe she was even better.

Hazel’s eyes flicked down to my bicep as I brought the brownie to my mouth for another bite, and I saw the tip of her tongue touch her lips for a second before she swallowed and looked me in the face again. Hazel, Hazel Rivera, was checking me out.

“So what are you going to be doing with yourself over the summer, now that you’re free?” I asked.

“Well, my friend Ella and I are hatching a scheme that would convince my parents to let me have a gap year. Other than that, just going to hang out with friends, maybe do a road trip before everybody scatters to the four corners of the world.”

“How’s that going for you? The scheme.”

“It’s… still unhatched, shall we say.”

Before I’d been kicked out of school, I’d had my pick of the girls, it had always been pretty easy for me. Since then, I’d gradually stopped going to the local parties, so I wasn’t sure if I was merely rusty or what, but I had almost as much problems getting the next words out of my mouth as Hazel had explaining the brownies.

“So… that’s the long-term plan, what about short term, like tonight?”

“Huh?”

I swallowed. “Well, if you didn’t have plans and wanted to make sure you’d properly apologized, I’m free tonight.”

Hazel’s eyebrows rose along with one side of her mouth. “Oh really? I thought all was forgiven?”

“Well… maybe I misspoke. I’m still pretty offended.”

“Oh no…”

“So, what do you say? Tonight? I could pick you up around seven?”

“I can’t.”

My heart lurched again.

“But… I’m free this afternoon. Say four?” she asked, sheepishly.

“Yep, I can work with that,” I said.

A smile so pure and bright lit up her face that my only defense was to smile back. We stood there for a few seconds smiling like fucking idiots.

“Uh… well, here.” She held out the plate. “These are yours. I gotta go, but I’ll see you at four. You know where I live, right?”

I pointed in the direction of her house.

“That’s it,” she said, taking a few steps backwards. “See you then.” She turned away as she spoke.

“See you then,” I said, just barely loud enough for her to hear, before taking my own backwards steps away from the fence and turning around.

“Hey Jeff?” she called.

I turned.

“It’s a date, right?” Her face was threatening to turn pink again.

“It’s a date.”

Hazel smiled and gave me a rueful ‘gotcha’ point of her finger. If I could have her smile at me like that every day, I’d be a happy man

Author Bio:

A former office drone, a former nurse, I now spend every waking moment doing what I love, creating and publishing these steamy stories about bad boys from the mafia, motorcycle clubs, and mma that make me, and hopefully you, weak at the knees! Anywhere a bad boy can be found, I'll be there taking notes and making it even sexier :)

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Spotlight: A Shifting of Stars by Kathy Kimbray

Genre: YA Fantasy

Release Date: May 28th 2019

Summary:

A squandering emperor. A handsome stranger. A reluctant heroine. And the ancient magic that will capsize a kingdom.

Seventeen-year-old Meadow Sircha watched her mother die from the wilting sickness. Tormented by the knowledge that the emperor failed to import the medicine that would have saved her, she speaks out at a gathering of villagers, inciting them to boycott his prized gladiator tournament.

But doing so comes at a steep cost.

Arrested as punishment for her impulsive tongue, Meadow finds herself caught up in the kind of danger she’s always tried to avoid. After a chance meeting with an enigmatic boy, she’s propelled on a perilous trek across the outer lands. But she soon unearths a staggering secret: one that will shift her world—and the kingdom—forever.

Filled with longing and heart, surprise and wonder, A SHIFTING OF STARS is the first book in Kathy Kimbray's gripping Of Stars trilogy.

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

I should not be here. I’m foreign to this village of broken rooftops and dull stone walls. I brush my fingers over a pillar. Its coldness burns my skin, makes me pause.

Go home.

The words sing loud like a taunt as moonlight slithers across my shoulders. The parchment digs like thorns in my palm. I imagine its shape, every fiber and ink blot.

Something moves near my feet and I jump. It’s just a rat, one of hordes from the city. They’ve grown bolder during these past few seasons, always darting out of alleys and running by arches, desperate—like us—to fill their bellies.

As it squeaks away, nails tapping in rhythm, I inspect the darkened street before me. Lamplight glows from a crooked post, but the shadows are still and the windows are empty. A leaf-strewn house looms in the distance, enticing me over the cobblestone ground. That house is the reason I’ve ventured so late into this weary part of town. Beside me, buildings cringe with moss. Walkways glisten with dirty puddles. Teetering balconies slouch from walls with garments strung between casements like cobwebs.

But that smell.

I halt to sniff the air. It wafts from the dwelling ahead of me. It winds from beneath its splintered panes—the pungent scent of broth and ale.

I wish it were stew.

Saliva brims on my tongue at the thought of meat cooked with spices and oils. The last time venison passed my lips, my mother was alive, my father smiled, and the future stretched before us, unending. Those were the days of Emperor Komran, a king who lived and bled for his people. I barely remember the white of his beard or how he limped through the fields during harvest. And it’s the same with my mother. I’m losing her, too. The curve of her cheek. The shade of her tresses. When she died, we set her afloat in the Geynes, and I sat on the bank with my toes in the water, not wanting to break that connection to her.

It’s a year tonight.

My chest starts to cave, but I fight and I fight to be still, to not cry. At least the dead are not hungry, not in turmoil. They do not see what Centriet has become.

I urge my feet toward the house. Komran would never have driven me here. When he reigned, our streets were routinely swept, and fountains dotted the well-kept pavements.

And medicine was—

A loose stone clacks. Forgetting my thoughts, I dart to an alcove. Since Komran’s son became our emperor, soldiers lurk where you’d least expect them.

In the dark, I steady my breaths, in and out. Not that I’m breaking any laws—that I know of. I listen to the night: crickets chirping, a soft breeze, and the whinny of a horse that’s so indistinct, perhaps it’s from Sledloe, the next village over.

I wait longer, just to be safe. Many of the soldiers are kind, though not all. Father says they’ve been granted more powers, but that we won’t know what it means for a while.

I hate not knowing. Just like tonight. I hate not knowing what awaits in the house. When the street remains silent, I rejoin the road, but my ankles wobble when I try to walk.

So I jog.

It soothes my jangled nerves, and I reach the house, breathless and flushed. Planks board the four square windows; rust from the nails seeps into the woodgrain. The stones are all different sizes and shapes, charred by the remnants of a long-ago fire. Ivy clings to the rutted surface, its end pieces curling like ribbon from the door.

You should leave, Meadow.

But I raise my fist. All I need to do is knock. I’ve already abandoned my stonebrick at dusk without letting Father know where I have gone. The loss of my mother hits me anew—the pain a reminder of why I have come here. That I’ve come to move on, to at last let her go. Even though I’m not sure what that means anymore.

Or if I can.

“Are you here for the Gathering?”

The question shatters the bracing air. Someone’s behind me and I spin to face him, shrouding myself with my long dark hair. But I’m wrong. There are two. One’s tall and strapping. The other is smaller in every way. As they chance another step, I notice that they’re young—about my age, seventeen.

“Why I’m here is not your concern,” I say.

“We do beg your pardon,” the smaller boy says. He has a scar on his brow like a cutlass. And another on his forearm, dark as molasses. He gestures to the vacant street behind him. “Have you ever visited Yahres before?”

“Yes,” I say, though my words are false. It’s safer to make them believe I’m a local.

“And your name?” asks the boy, but I shake my head at the same time his companion lets out a grunt.

“Don’t bother,” he snaps. “We leave tomorrow.”

The smaller boy nods, looking slightly embarrassed.

“We watched you for a bit,” he tells me.

“And what did you see?” I ask.

He smiles. One of his teeth is chipped. “We assumed you’d turn back many times.”

My pulse quickens at their presumption, especially since it’s mostly true. The slums of Yahres are outside the walls. My home lies inside in the village of Maytown. In Maytown we’re warned to always tread wisely in places like Yahres, Florian, and Sledloe. Perhaps that’s why I’d appeared so unsure. Yet neither of the pair looks remarkably dangerous.

“You proved us wrong,” the boy continues.

“No hard feelings,” I say.

He laughs. “Come inside with us.”

He holds out a hand, but I back away.

“Forgive me,” he says, withdrawing swiftly, color blotching his cheeks. “We lodge with the man who hosts these gatherings . . . and I noticed you had a parchment to read.”

“You saw?” I jolt, clutching it tightly, blood surging through my legs and arms. Since Mother’s passing, it happens quite often. My heart beats fast, and I need to run.

“You don’t have to read it,” he says.

I swallow.

“Although you can if you want to, of course. Unless you didn’t come here for the Gathering?”

“I doubt she’s here for anything else.”

It’s much too hard to read his expression, but the taller boy speaks with a dash of disdain. He sidesteps his friend with two no-nonsense strides.

“You don’t know my business,” I say.

“Oh, please.” He comes in close, reaching past me, and the scent of leather and steel is intense. It reminds me of sitting in my father’s workroom when he’s mending quivers for the elder archers. The boy raps on the door with his knuckles. Three times, then nothing. The way we’re supposed to. “Of course you’re here for the Gathering,” he says, as metal grinds and a peephole opens.

My need to bolt escalates.

“Get in. You’re the last,” says the face inside. The cumbersome timber shifts outward before us. It breaks the leaves and they flutter in spirals.

“After you,” the tall boy says.

The parchment feels like a stone in my hand. It dawns on me how stifled this is—this narrow black corridor, deep in the kingdom.

I brush the still-dangling leaves to one side. The passageway stretches a good twenty paces. I could perish in there and no one would find me.

“Are you waiting for something?”

“No,” I say.

Ignoring the boy, I stoop to enter, trying to focus my thoughts on the brickwork. The blocks have eroded from years of scuffing. They smell like lichen and tarnished copper. Light spills through the distant doorframe, and our guide clears his throat to urge us on. I double my pace, though the boys hang back. The weight of their presence behind me is strong.

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About the Author

Kathy Kimbray is a YA author from Australia. She loves summer, dancing and dreaming up big ideas. A SHIFTING OF STARS is the first book in her thrilling new YA fantasy series.

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