Spotlight: High King of Britain by Tracy Cooper-Posey

High King of Britain
Tracy Cooper-Posey
(Once and Future Hearts #5)
Publication date: May 30th 2019
Genres: Fantasy, Historical, Romance

All she wants is to fight for Arthur and Britain.

Lady Mair is a daughter of Corneus—the house of perfect warriors—and wants only to serve Arthur, War Duke of Britain, as her brothers Lucan and Bedivere do. Yet King Alun of Brocéliande wants to make her his queen, which would mean leaving Britain and Arthur’s court.

Alun’s younger brother and Mair’s best friend, Rawn, sees things as Mair does—nothing is more important than being the best warriors they can be.

Only Mair is entangled in the politics of the kings and leaders surrounding Arthur, just as his army prepares to fight two major battles in one summer, and people wonder when Arthur will become High King of Britain.

Plus, Rawn is hiding secrets of his own, that run counter to Mair’s desparate wish to be free to fight for Britain.

This novel is part of the ancient historical romance series, Once and Future Hearts, set in Britain during the time of King Arthur.

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EXCERPT:

After washing and exchanging her bloody war gear for clean leather, Mair ducked under the tent flap and went in search of wine, her mind calm, her thoughts peaceful. The battle had been won. It was time to celebrate.

Somewhere nearby, there would be a campfire with like-minded warriors sitting around it, with wineskins and cups. A place would be made for her.

“Lady Mair.” The call came from her left.

Mair halted to look. The man who came toward her was black of hair, with a sharp jaw. He looked familiar. Mair took in his wide shoulders, and the strong wrists. He had washed and changed just as she had, so there were no house markings on his clothes or cloak to tell her who he was.

She glanced at his face once more as he stopped before her. He had thick dark brows over very blue eyes…and then she knew why he seemed familiar to him. “Arawn Uther,” she said. “You have joined Arthur’s army now?”

“My brother sent me, as he could not be spared himself,” Arawn Uther said. “Alun remains in Lesser Britain to hold the eastern borders with Hoel.” He reached inside his over tunic, underneath the cloak. “I have a letter for you, from Alun.”

The mention of a letter should have filled her with delight. Instead, Mair felt a twisting and tightening in her belly. “He did not send it by messenger?”

“Not this letter,” Arawn Uther held the sealed roll toward her.

The very slight emphasis made her hesitate as she reached for the roll. “Why this letter? You know what is in it, don’t you?”

Arawn Uther didn’t shift his stance. His expression did not change. Yet Mair could feel the wave of sadness that swept him. His blue eyes glittered. “My mother…Ilsa…” His throat worked.

Mair sighed. “Oh, Arawn… I’m so sorry.”

He nodded. Then he cleared his throat. “As you can imagine, my mother’s passing changes things.”

He did not finish the thought, but he did not need to. Mair could finish it all by herself. It changes things between you and Alun.

Alun had been pressing for a solid arrangement between them for years, via messengers and couriers, and letters like this one. Now, with his mother’s passing, he would reasonably expect to secure the next generation.

Mair looked at the roll hanging forgotten in Arawn’s hand. She didn’t want to read it. Once she read Alun’s entreaty that she join him in Brocéliande, she would be forced to make a decision.

Mair gripped Arawn’s arm. “It is not the time to tax our minds with such matters,” she said firmly. “We have clawed victory from this day. I was about to find some wine and I insist you come and drink it with me.”

“But…”

She shook her head. “No. You fought today as I did. You now get to enjoy the warrior’s rights. Drink and…perhaps we can find you a willing, warm woman, to take that care from your eyes.”

Arawn rolled his eyes. “Really, Lady Mair–”

“Mair,” she said firmly.

“Rawn,” he replied, just as firmly. He narrowed his eyes and stuffed the letter back inside his tunic. “Where is this wine you speak of?”

Author Bio:

Tracy Cooper-Posey is a #1 Best Selling Author. She writes romantic suspense, historical, paranormal and science fiction romance. She has published over 100 novels since 1999, been nominated for five CAPAs including Favourite Author, and won the Emma Darcy Award.

She turned to indie publishing in 2011. Her indie titles have been nominated four times for Book Of The Year. Tracy won the award in 2012, and an SFR Galaxy Award in 2016 for “Most Intriguing Philosophical/Social Science Questions in Galaxybuilding”. She has been a national magazine editor and for a decade she taught romance writing at MacEwan University.

She is addicted to Irish Breakfast tea and chocolate, sometimes taken together. In her spare time she enjoys history, Sherlock Holmes, science fiction and ignoring her treadmill. An Australian Canadian, she lives in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, a former professional wrestler, where she moved in 1996 after meeting him on-line.

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Spotlight: The Printed Letter Bookshop by Katherine Reay

Love, friendship, and family find a home at the Printed Letter Bookshop.

One of Madeline Cullen’s happiest childhood memories is of working with her Aunt Maddie in the quaint and cozy Printed Letter Bookshop. But by the time Madeline inherits the shop nearly twenty years later, family troubles and her own bitter losses have hardened her heart toward her once-treasured aunt—and the now struggling bookshop left in her care.

While Madeline intends to sell the shop as quickly as possible, the Printed Letter’s two employees have other ideas. Reeling from a recent divorce, Janet finds sanctuary within the books and within the decadent window displays she creates. Claire, though quieter than the acerbic Janet, feels equally drawn to the daily rhythms of the shop and its loyal clientele, finding a renewed purpose within its walls. When Madeline’s professional life takes an unexpected turn, and a handsome gardener upends all her preconceived notions, she questions her plans and her heart. She begins to envision a new path for herself and her aunt’s beloved shop—provided the women’s best combined efforts are not too little, too late.

The Printed Letter Bookshop is a captivating story of good books, a testament to the beauty of new beginnings, and a sweet reminder of the power of friendship.

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About the Author

Katherine Reay’s first novel, Dear Mr. Knightley, was a 2014 Christy Award Finalist and winner of the 2014 INSPY Award for Best Debut as well as Carol Awards for both Best Debut and Best Contemporary. She is also the writer behind Lizzy & Jane, The Bronte Plot, A Portrait of Emily Price and The Austen Escape – all contemporary stories with a bit of “classics” flair. Katherine holds a BA and MS from Northwestern University and is a wife, mother, runner, former marketer, avid chocolate consumer and, randomly, a tae kwon do black belt. After living all across the country and a few stops in Europe, Katherine and her family presently live outside of Chicago.

Connect with Katherine: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Cover Reveal: Coveting Love & Revenge by Haven Cage

Coveting Love & Revenge
Haven Cage
(A Perilously Pretty Novel)
Publication date: June 12th 2019
Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance, Suspense

Synthia will do anything for her daughter – even murder.

1871, high-society Savannah, Georgia.

Penniless and jaded governess, Synthia James, is trapped with her employer, a man she once loved but now despises. His obsession with money and stature has corrupted them both. When he bids their young housemaid to kill a man who threatens his business, Synthia’s maternal instincts take over, and she commits the heinous deed herself.

Now there’s another business enemy… and her former beau wants him dead. But the new cotton farmer has revived Synthia’s long-forgotten passions.

With blood on her hands already, Synthia is prepared to kill again. But who? The new business partner for her daughter’s sake, or her greedy lover for morality and freedom?

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Author Bio:

Haven Cage lives in the Carolinas with her husband and son. After many years of dabbling with drawing, painting, and working night shift in the medical field, she decided to try her hand at writing. Unfortunately, her love for books came later in life and proved to add a healthy challenge during her writing journey. Determined to hone her craft though, she soaks up as much information as she can, spends her free time tapping away in her favorite local coffee shop, and keeps a good book in hand whenever possible.

What began as a hobby has grown into a way of escape and the yearning to take her journey farther, her love for writing and reading deepening along the way.

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Spotlight: Barefoot Beach by Debbie Mason

Can a summer of love make up for a lifetime of secrets?

Wedding fever has taken over Harmony Harbor this summer, and the local matchmakers have set their sights on Theia Lawson, a former navy pilot who's in town for a stay at Greystone Manor. And while Theia's got her reasons to put this small town behind her as fast as she can, there's a certain tall, dark, and irresistible man that she can't seem to get off her mind. 

Firefighter Marco DiRossi wants to beat the matchmakers at their own game so he conspires with Theia to pretend they've already fallen in love. It's only for the summer. What could go wrong? Yet as the beach season draws to a close, Marco and Theia find their pretend relationship has led to very real attraction. But when a secret from the past is revealed, jeopardizing everything they hold dear, can this unlikely couple find their way to a happily-ever-after?

Excerpt

“Would you just relax?” Marco said when the woman he’d put in a fireman’s carry continued to struggle. “We’re almost…” His legs buckled. She’d gotten a foot free and kicked him in the crotch. Despite the emasculating pain, he regained control of her legs and her feet and managed to make it to the end of the aisle without falling to his knees. “Keep your head down,” he said, an angry snap in his voice as he ducked out the door.

He winced. She might have nearly unmanned him, but less than twenty minutes ago her life had probably flashed before her eyes.

The winds had picked up, noisily whipping the flag over the terminal, rattling the metal staircase he carefully traversed to the tarmac. The plane’s captain looked over from where he sat in the back of the ambulance, having his hand wrapped. He blanched and shot to his feet, shaking off the paramedic.

“What happened to her? Is she going to be okay?” he asked as he jogged toward them.

“The only thing wrong with me is him. He completely overreacted to the situation, ruined the interior of the cabin, and then decided to play He-Man.” She tried to wriggle out of his hold. “Put me down. Now.”

The pilot looked relieved. “Don’t give him a hard time, T. He was just doing his job.”

“He’s right, ma’am. Now, if you promise not to kick me again, I’ll put you down.”

“So, what? If I don’t agree, you’re going to walk around with me over your shoulder for the rest of the freakin’ day?”

“When you put it like that…” He kept his amusement in check as he lowered her feet to the ground. He winced when she stood before him. Her hair and face were bloody. Both he and the pilot reached for her when she swayed.

She swatted their hands away. “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are. You just look like you’re auditioning for a horror flick.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Marco said, smiling companionably at the pilot. “By the way, man, that was some flying. Honestly, I don’t know how you held it together. From down here…” Marco trailed off. He didn’t think the woman needed to hear what it looked like from

the ground. “Anyway, great job.”

“I’d like to take cred—”

Arms crossed and head cocked, the woman interrupted the pilot. “He wasn’t the one flying the plane. I was.”

Marco laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’d take two steps back if I were you. Maybe four. Her legs are longer than they look.” The other man covered a grin with his bandaged hand.

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About the Author

Debbie Mason is the USA Today and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of the Christmas, Colorado series and the Harmony Harbor series. The first book in her Christmas, Colorado series, “The Trouble with Christmas,” was the inspiration for Hallmark’s “Welcome to Christmas.” Her books have been praised by RT Book Reviews for their “likable characters, clever dialogue, and juicy plots.” When Debbie isn’t writing, she enjoys spending time with her family in Ottawa, Canada.

Connect:

Site: https://authordebbiemason.com

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorDebMason

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6202108.Debbie_Mason

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Spotlight: Rouge: A Novel of Beauty and Rivalry by Richard Kirshenbaum

Rouge is a sexy, glamorous journey into the rivalry of the pioneers of powder, mascara and rouge. It gives readers a rare front row seat into the world of high society and business through the rivalry of two beauty industry icons (think Helena Rubenstein and Elizabeth Arden).

This fast-paced novel examines the lives, loves, and sacrifices of the visionaries who invented the modern cosmetics industry: Josiah Herzenstein, born in a Polish Jewish Shtlel, the entrepreneur who transforms herself into a global style icon and the richest woman in the world, Josephine Herz; Constance Gardiner, her rival, the ultimate society woman who invents the door-to-door business and its female workforce but whose deepest secret threatens everything; CeeCee Lopez, the bi-racial beauty and founder of the first African American woman’s hair relaxer business, who overcomes prejudice and heartbreak to become her community’s first female millionaire.

The cast of characters is rounded out by Mickey Heron, a dashing, sexy ladies' man whose cosmetics business is founded in a Hollywood brothel. All are bound in a struggle to be number one, doing anything to get there…including murder.

Excerpt

From Rouge: A Novel of Beauty and Rivalry. Copyright © 2019 by Richard Kirshenbaum and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Press.

Chapter 1

HOLLYWOOD DREAMS

New York City, 1933

A Technicolor sky hung over the city even though it was only early May. At times, even New York City seemed to have caught the bug. The pear trees that bloomed like white fireworks every April may as well have sprouted palm trees. Everyone, it seemed, had just stepped out of a Garbo movie, and Josephine Herz (née Josiah Herzenstein) would be damned if she would not capitalize on this craze.

A young, well-kept woman was the first to grace her newly opened, eponymous salon on Fifth Avenue. With bleached-blond “marcelled” hair, a substantial bust, and a mouth that looked as though it had been carved from a pound of chopped meat, her new client had all the ammunition to entrap any man in the city, to keep him on the dole, and her cosmetic hygienist, in this case Herz Beauty, on the payroll. She lowered herself onto the padded leather salon chair like a descending butterfly and batted her eyes as though they too might flutter from her face.

“I want thickah,” she whined. She said this in a Brooklyn accent that would have killed her chances had she been an actress transitioning from silent to talkies.

Josephine nodded and reached into her arsenal, procuring the favored Herz moisturizer for a dewy complexion. She removed and unscrewed the glass jar, leaned over her client, and began to apply it to her cheekbones in soft, round swirls.

“No!” The client swatted her hand away as though to scold and dispose of a landed bug. “Not my skin,” she said. “My lashes.”

“Oh.” Josephine withdrew her hand and held it, poised high above her client’s face, as though hovering a spoon over a boiling pot.

“I want thicker lashes,” said the blonde. “Like Gloria.”

“Gloria?” Josephine was perplexed.

“Swanson!” the client said, shaking her head, miffed that she was not understood.

“I see.” Josephine replaced the glass jar in her holster bag and procured a separate, zippered case. “For the thick-eyelash look, you have two options: tinting or application.” She removed both a small black cake and a moistened brush to apply the pigment and a plastic box of spidery lashes and displayed them as though they were a cache of jewels. The tube of adhesive gum came next.

The blonde’s eyes widened. She shook her head and sat bolt upright on her chair. A convalescent, revived from the dead. “Ya don’t mean you want to glue them on?”

Josephine took a long, deep breath. “How else do you think women get them?” she said. “If there were a drink ve could drink to grow them, I assure you I’d let you know,” she said in her Polish-tinged English.

“I just assumed…,” said the blonde. Miffed, she reached into her pocketbook and produced a magazine clipping from a crumpled stash. She unfurled a luminous, if wrinkled, image of Gloria Swanson, the Hollywood glamour girl, from the latest issue of Motion Picture. All lips, pouting like a put-out princess. She had the brow of an Egyptian goddess, the same distinctive beauty mark, and the eyelashes of a jungle cat. “Like that,” she said, pointing at her eyes. “I want to look like that for a party tonight.”

Josephine’s perfectly lacquered blood-red nails grazed the wrinkled page. She studied Gloria’s fabulous face, the brow, the lash, the pout.

“Application,” Josephine said, returning the image.

“Geez,” said the client. “You’d think by now you people would come up with something better than that.”

It was her duty, Josephine had come to feel, to tolerate stings and slights like this. But a new thought occurred to her as she prepped the lashes for application, as she meticulously heated and applied the adhesive gum. Her client was right. She often worked the floor to do just that: to listen to her patrons, her clients. And now that she was in New York, she knew enough never to be too far away from what real American women wanted. And so she took in the woman’s request with deep reverence, as she knew nothing was more important to her future sales than her clients’ needs. Blanche or Betty—or whatever the tacky blonde’s name was—was right. It was high time someone came up with something better. Josephine was certainly up to this task. The only problem was that across town, a woman named Constance Gardiner was doing the very same thing.

* * *

Josephine Herz was not, of course, the first to invent mascara. But she would be the first to invent one devoid of mess and fuss and to make it available to the masses. As early as ancient Egypt, women found their facial fix. Considered to be a necessary accoutrement in every woman’s and man’s daily regime, kohl, a combination of galena, lead sulfide, or copper and wax, was applied to the eyes, the eyebrows and lashes, to ward off evil spirits and to protect from sun damage. Most any image of Egyptian gods or goddesses will reveal hieroglyphs, not only on pyramid walls but on the Egyptians’ faces. The bold, black lines on the female face lost fashion over the centuries, especially in more recent times when Victorian ladies eschewed color of all kind on the face. But it was not long before women craved—and chemists created—a new brand of adornment for the eye. Coal, honey, beeswax—all the traditional ingredients had to be tested and tried. Josephine could smell a market maker from a mile away, and in this, she sensed a new moment for the eye. From Los Angeles to Larchmont, women were craving new ways to look like the stars of the silver screen, new ways to dress, look, and behave in a modern woman’s ever-changing role. These women needed a product that would make them look and feel like Garbo or Swanson, something simpler, cleaner, and quicker than the application of false eyelashes every six to eight weeks. These women needed a product that was cheap, fuss-free, and less mess than the old option made from charcoal, which, in the very worst cases, caused blindness.

Copyright © 2019 by Richard Kirshenbaum

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About the Author

RICHARD KIRSHENBAUM is the author of Rouge: A Novel of Beauty and Rivalry (St. Martin’s Press). He is CEO of NSG/SWAT, a high-profile boutique branding agency. He has lectured at Harvard Business School, appeared on 20/20, was named to Crain’s New York Business’s “40 under 40” list, and has been inducted into the Advertising Hall of Fame. He is the author of Under the Radar, Closing the Deal, Madboy, and Isn’t That Rich? and the New York Observer's "Isn't That Rich?" column. He lives in New York City with his wife and three children.

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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