Spotlight: Battle Born For You by Layla Lochran

Painting Her Fate Liliana's story continues with this action-packed military romance as we dig deeper into Alexander's secrets consuming his days.

A: I made a proud oath to my country, vowing to fight until the battle is won, but my nightmares will not stay buried now that she is gone. Will she run back home to London, out of my life forever? Can I convince her it was my way of protecting her? My reality crashes down around me as I allow darkness to creep in. I can't take this feeling any longer; I need her to save me from myself. Please Lily.

L: He betrayed my trust and now my skeletons are out of the closet for all to see. If any of my secrets were to end up in the wrong hands, who knows what would happen. Can I ever forgive him? Now I am vulnerable, scared, needing someone to cling to. Can I trust Zander and his mates with their word of protection? If I have learned anything, it's never to question a Marine's promise.

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Excerpt

She turns her head just as I make my way down the path nearing her.

That smile.

It’s the smile that gives me the determination I need so much right now. Almost like I can win her heart again. I feel my own pounding a faster rhythm as I near her, and it’s not just because I happen to think she’s beautiful, but because of how strong and alive she seems to be now.

She stands from the bench where she and one other woman are sat at and I can’t help but zone in on the one I so desperately want.  I need to make amends. Today.

I arrive at her side; she straightens when she catches sight of me. “Hey Lily.” I see her brows lift in the slightest way.

“Alexander. What are you doing here?”

There it is, the awkwardness flowing between us; I want no part of it today nor in any way here on out. Not sure where my confidence comes from as I lean in and dust a quick kiss on her lips. At first, she freezes, and I think a slap from her might ensue. I need to take that chance though. My tongue caresses her top lip. A soft intake of air escapes her as her body molds into mine and her arms come around my waist.

I barely register the other woman standing nearby. I’m lost within the only person that matters most to me. Right here. Right now. Always.

Lily’s amiable lips linger on mine, sending a charge throughout my whole body. My wicked thoughts crash over me and I picture us hand and hand as we run to my bar down the road and into my locked office where I spread her out on my desk. Or better yet I carry her to a quiet little patch of scraggly bushes nearby, ravish her till her cries of pleasure enrapture us both. Only then would she ask me to take her home and finish what we started.

I want that so fuckin’ badly—I want hear her beg and plead for her release—but it’s too soon. I need to slow down.

Not to mention, screwing each other near Canalside usually ends in a decent fine and humiliation neither of us want on our record. There is nowhere to be stealthy in this public of a place.

I gently suck her bottom lip for a few seconds, drawing out a grating murmur from her.

A feminine throat clears from behind Lily and we separate.

She blinks dazedly up at me several times but doesn’t let go. My body must be grounding her, otherwise she feels as if she would drop to the ground. Yes. I want her just like this.

She furrows her brow when the woman behind her begins laughing lightly at the two of us.

“Well now, if that wasn’t a proper greeting, I don’t know what that could’ve been.” The lightness continuing in her tone.

“Umm.” Lily clears her throat, a slight blush to her cheeks. I can tell she is embarrassed and more aware now of the world around us. She steps back but keeps my hand in hers, the contact bringing that shiver through my body again. She turns her body so we both face the intruder. “Tamara- I-uh-, she stammers and it’s the cutest thing ever. I can’t recall a time when she has been lost for words.

“So this is the illustrious Alexander I have heard so much about. Nice to meet you, I’m Tamara, Lily’s best mate.” Her pompom afro poof on the top of her head pairs well with her bright colored clothing. Fun and inviting.

“Ah, Tamara, it’s good to finally meet you in person.” So, this is the one I have transpired with and the one who is helping me get my Lily back. I like that, my Lily.

A perfect ring to it.

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About the Author

Layla Lochran grew up in a tiny ski town in Western New York, always with a variety of books in her hand. Contemporary, Historical, and Paranormal romances struck her fancy, expanding her imagination and dreams in someday becoming an author herself. Rock concerts, photography, and brightly colored hair are just a few of her hobbies, as well as having fun with special FX makeup, props, and costumes with her son and community. Other than reading, she enjoys nature, many different wines and local vineyards, spending time with her family, and helping others to find their creative edge. Someday she will travel the world to see all it has to offer her. Life is short; live every day to the fullest, love exponentially, stay positive, and give it your all.

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Cover Reveal: Falling into You by Al Jackson

Falling into You

A Falling Stars stand-alone romance from A.L. Jackson

Coming September 21st

Cover: LJ Designs

Photo: Adrian Oliver Photography 

RELEASE DATE: SEPTEMBER 21ST, 2020

SERIES: A Falling Stars stand-alone novel 

Synopsis

Richard Ramsey is the guitarist for the world’s hottest new band.Gifted. Charismatic. Hot as sin.Lend your ear, and he’ll steal your heart.Nah, you can’t have his considering he left it in his hometown years ago.

He knows better than going back. But it’s his younger sister’s wedding, and there’s no way he can say no to that.

He should have known she would be there, invading his senses and making him thirst and hunger for what he wants most.

Violet Marin hates him for what he’s done. He left her emptyhanded with their wreckage strewn all around. She’s picked up the pieces and is living her life the best way that she can.

But their connection is fierce.

Their attraction unending.

It only takes one glance for their worlds to collide.

One touch to set them on fire.

But she doesn’t know the dark secrets he keeps. If he had understood the true price of fame, he would have known he’d sold his soul and this debt is something he cannot repay.

Letting her go is impossible, but will loving her cost it all?

A sensuous, captivating contemporary stand-alone romance in the Falling Stars series from NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author, A.L. Jackson . . .

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Pre-order a Falling into You Release Box - includes a signed paperback, premium merchandise, and goodies! This one is MY FAVORITE YET, and we had to upsize the boxes to fix everything in!!!

Quantities are limited and we sold out super fast last time, so reserve yours now! 

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About the Author

A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.

Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, and FALLING STARS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone, FALLING INTO YOU, releasing September 21st.

If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.

Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson - Sign up to receive her newsletter http://smarturl.it/NewsFromALJackson or text “aljackson” to 33222 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.

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Spotlight: Crash by Evelyn Sola

Vivi has a pesky problem who goes by the name of Luke, but he thinks her bitter and combative mouth is just begging to be kissed. Find out if their hostility can be replaced by a single, scorching hot kiss in Evelyn Sola’s CRASH, the third book in The Clark Family series. Fans of hot, enemies to lovers reads will sink their teeth into this sexy, diverse romance. 

Read Now! 

Amazon → https://amzn.to/339Mi5N

Vivi

For the first time in my life, I’m with the family I choose. Living with my cousin, who happens to be a newlywed, is the best thing ever.There is one pesky downside, and his name is Lucas Clark.He’s a spoiled rich boy who was put on this Earth to torture me. He thinks he can intimidate me, keep me in my place, but I have news for him. No way is he man enough.And it’s annoying. Like, why do his eyes follow me everywhere? Why do I lose all self-control, seeking him out whenever we share the same space?I should be running in the opposite direction, right? His words are harsh, hostile. Until one night, the hostility is replaced by a kiss that almost set us on fire.

Luke

She’s a tiny ball of energy. Every bitter and combative word out of her mouth is aimed at me. My family thinks I walk on water, so I could use any excuse to stay away from her. She’s nothing more than a man-hating shrew wrapped up in a beautiful package.Those dark eyes of hers? I see them everywhere. Her red lips? They beg to be kissed. And one night, I do. I finally get a taste, but it’s not enough. I want more.

She says she hates me. I’m used to getting what I want, and what I want is to prove to Vivi that hate is the last thing on her mind when it comes to me. 

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Goodreads → https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/54107131-crash

About the Author 

A Boston native, wife, mother, and wine enthusiast. If she’s not writing, thinking about writing, you will find her with a book in her hands. While a new publisher, she’s been writing for years, and she will continue to write for many years to come.  

Evelyn is obsessed with assertive and confident men who will stop at nothing to get their woman. Her stories are filled with love, passion, and humor. 

She currently lives in Washington, DC with her husband and two daughters.

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Spotlight: The Day Lincoln Lost by Charles Rosenberg

An inventive historical thriller that reimagines the tumultuous presidential election of 1860, capturing the people desperately trying to hold the nation together – and those trying to crack it apart.

Abby Kelley Foster arrived in Springfield, Illinois with the fate of the nation on her mind. Her fame as an abolitionist speaker had spread west and she knew that her first speech in the city would make headlines. One of the residents reading those headlines would be none other than the likely next President of the United States.

Abraham Lincoln, lawyer and presidential candidate, knew his chances of winning were good. All he had to do was stay above the fray of the slavery debate and appear the voice of compromise until the people cast their votes. The last thing he needed was a fiery abolitionist appearing in town. When her speech sparks violence, leading to her arrest and a high-profile trial, he suspects that his political rivals have conspired against him.

President James Buchanan is one such rival. As his term ends and his political power crumbles, he gathers his advisors at the White House to make one last move that might derail Lincoln’s campaign, steal the election, and throw America into chaos.

A fascinating historical novel and fast-paced political thriller of a nation on the cusp of civil war, The Day Lincoln Lost offers an unexpected window into one of the most consequential elections in our country’s history.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Kentucky

Early August, 1860

Lucy Battelle’s birthday was tomorrow. She would be twelve. Or at least that was what her mother told her. Lucy knew the date might not be exact, because Riverview Plantation didn’t keep close track of when slaves were born. Or when they died, for that matter. They came, they worked and they went to their heavenly reward. Unless, of course, they were sold off to somewhere else.

There had been a lot of selling-off of late. The Old Master, her mother told her, had at least known how to run a plantation. And while their food may have been wretched at times, there had always been enough. But the Old Master had died years before Lucy was born. His eldest son, Ezekiel Goshorn, had inherited Riverview.

Ezekiel was cruel, and he had an eye for young black women, although he stayed away from those who had not yet developed. Lucy has seen him looking at her of late, though. She was thin, and very tall for her age—someone had told her she looked like a young tree—and when she looked at herself naked, she could tell that her breasts were beginning to come. “You are pretty,” her mother said, which sent a chill through her.

Whatever his sexual practices, Goshorn had no head for either tobacco farming or business, and Riverview was visibly suffering for it, and not only for a shortage of food. Lucy could see that the big house was in bad need of painting and other repairs, and the dock on the river, which allowed their crop to be sent to market, looked worse and worse every year. By now it was half-falling-down. Slaves could supply the labor to repair things, of course, but apparently Goshorn couldn’t afford the materials.

Last year, a blight had damaged almost half the tobacco crop. Goshorn had begun to sell his slaves south to make ends meet.

In the slave quarter, not a lot was really known about being sold south, except that it was much hotter there, the crop was harder-to-work cotton instead of tobacco and those who went didn’t come back. Ever.

Several months earlier, two of Lucy’s slightly older friends had been sold, and she had watched them manacled and put in the back of a wagon, along with six others. Her friends were sobbing as the wagon moved away. Lucy was dry-eyed because then and there she had decided to escape.

Others had tried to escape before her, of course, but most had been caught and brought back. When they arrived back, usually dragged along in chains by slave catchers, Goshorn—or one of his five sons—had whipped each of them near to death. A few had actually died, but most had been nursed back to at least some semblance of health by the other slaves.

Lucy began to volunteer to help tend to them—to feed them, put grease on their wounds, hold their hands while they moaned and carry away the waste from their bodies. Most of all, though, she had listened to their stories—especially to what had worked and what had failed.

One thing she had learned was that they used hounds to pursue you, and that the hounds smelled any clothes you left behind to track you. One man told her that another man who had buried his one pair of extra pants in the woods before he left—not hard to do because slaves had so little—had not been found by the dogs.

Still another man said a runaway needed to take a blanket because as you went north, it got colder, especially at night, even in the summer. And you needed to find a pair of boots that would fit you. Lucy had tried on her mother’s boots—the ones she used in the winter—and they fit. Her mother would find another pair, she was sure.

The hard thing was the Underground Railroad. They had all heard about it. They had even heard the masters damning it. Lucy had long understood that it wasn’t actually underground and wasn’t even a railroad. It was just people, white and black, who helped you escape—who fed you, hid you in safe houses and moved you, sometimes by night, sometimes under a load of hay or whatever they had that would cover you.

The problem was you couldn’t always tell which ones were real railroaders and which ones were slave catchers posing as railroaders. The slaves who came back weren’t much help about how to tell the difference because most had guessed wrong. Lucy wasn’t too worried about it. She had not only the optimism of youth, but a secret that she thought would surely help her.

Tonight was the night. Over the past few days she had dug a deep hole in the woods where she could bury her tiny stash of things that might carry her smell. For weeks before that, she had foraged and dug for mushrooms in the woods, and so no one seemed to pay much mind to her foraging and digging earlier that day. As she left, she planned to take the now-too-small shift she had secretly saved from last year’s allotment—her only extra piece of clothing—along with her shoes and bury them in the hole. That way the dogs could not take her smell from anything left behind. She would take the blanket she slept in with her.

She had also saved up small pieces of smoked meat so that she had enough—she hoped—to sustain her for a few days until she could locate the Railroad. She dropped the meat into a small cloth bag and hung it from a string tied around her waist, hidden under her shift.

Her mother had long ago fallen asleep, and the moon had set. Even better, it was cloudy and there was no starlight. Lucy put on her mother’s boots, stepped outside the cabin and looked toward the woods.

As she started to move, Ezekiel Goshorn appeared in front of her, seemingly out of nowhere, along with two of his sons and said, “Going somewhere, Lucy?”

“I’m just standing here.”

“Hold out your arms.”

“Why?”

“Hold out your arms!”

She hesitated but finally did as he asked, and one of his sons, the one called Amasa, clamped a pair of manacles around her wrists. “We’ve been watching you dig in the woods,” he said. “Planning a trip perhaps?”

Lucy didn’t answer.

“Well, we have a little trip to St. Louis planned for you instead.”

As Ezekiel pushed her along, she turned to see if her mother had been awakened by the noise. If she had, she hadn’t come out of the cabin. Probably afraid. Lucy had been only four the first time she’d seen Ezekiel Goshorn flog her mother, and that was not the last time she’d been forced to stand there and hear her scream.

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About the Author

Charles Rosenberg is the author of the legal thriller Death on a High Floor and its sequels. The credited legal consultant to the TV shows LA Law, Boston Legal, The Practice, and The Paper Chase, he was also one of two on-air legal analysts for E! Television’s coverage of the O.J. Simpson criminal and civil trials. He teaches as an adjunct law professor at Loyola Law School and has also taught at UCLA, Pepperdine and Southwestern law schools. He practices law in the Los Angeles area.

Connect:

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Spotlight: Hollywood Heartbreaker by Alexa Aston

Contemporary Romance, Romantic Comedy

Release Date: August 6, 2020

From internationally bestselling romance author Alexa Aston comes a stunning new Contemporary Romance series. Book One in the exciting Hollywood Name Game series has arrived. Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

Being late to an interview lands her the biggest job opportunity of her life.

He may be rich and successful—but he’s just this side of miserable.

Can a wannabe be The One for the biggest star in Hollywood?

Cassie Carroll came to Hollywood with big dreams that never materialized. Acting isn’t even on the back burner anymore—it’s completely off the stove. Working for a third-rate agent, Cassie hopes to land a new job that will give her credibility, as well as help pay the rent. Late to her interview, she swerves to avoid hitting a dog—and totals the car of Hollywood’s leading action superstar. Surprisingly, she walks away from their encounter with a job—as the sexiest man alive’s personal assistant.

Rhett Corrigan is bored with the movies he makes and the drop-dead gorgeous model he’s dating. He’s afraid that Hollywood has typecast him—and that he’ll never be able to break out of his action mold and try new acting challenges. When Cassie Carroll literally slams into his life, she brings a breath of fresh air and common sense to his world. She pushes him to be a better actor and a better man.

Can these friends become lovers—and can their love survive—in a tabloid-happy town that thrives on rumors and backstabbing?

Hollywood Heartbreaker is the first book in the Hollywood Name Game series. Each book in the series is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.

#HollywoodNameGame #AlexaAston #romance #bookbuzz

Excerpt

Excerpt from Hollywood Heartbreaker by Alexa Aston

Cassie squeezed her eyes closed as she plowed into the vehicle. An awful crunching noise sounded, metal grinding against metal. No airbag exploded because the car didn’t have one. She bounced off the steering wheel as her heart slammed against her ribs. The guy that had stepped out couldn’t have survived the impact. What did they call it—vehicular manslaughter? She would go to prison for the rest of her life. This would be the final nail to hammer into the Cassie Coffin. She’d taken a life and would give up her own in payment. Forcing her eyes open, her jaw dropped in amazement.

The guy was alive.

Granted, he was draped across the trunk of some foreign-looking convertible but she hadn’t crushed the life out of him. Somehow, he’d managed to spin around, quick reflexes saving his life. He came upright and limped a few steps. Great. She must have nicked him. He leaned against the car—what was left of it—and held a hand to his forehead as he turned to stare at her.

Her adrenaline spiked. She’d totaled his very expensive car. Cassie had the feeling the stranger was about to tear her apart. She would meet him in the middle and grovel. Maybe turn on some tears for good measure. Hadn’t Jolene told her that men hated themselves when they made women cry?

Cassie unhooked her seat belt and tried to get out of the car. The door wouldn’t budge. Great. She’d have to go back to climbing in through the passenger’s side as she had last month when the Civic went through a temperamental stage. Or maybe not. She glanced around and saw the crumpled hood, steam rising, and watched as the sedan shuddered, giving up the ghost.

The smell of gasoline began to permeate the air, clouding her judgment. She looked down at her outfit and knew today’s interview wasn’t happening with the way she looked. She’d seen homeless people appear more pulled together. Confused, she wondered what she had wanted to do.

Cassie saw the stupid dog again that she’d swerved to miss. A yapping poodle. The mutt’s owner teetered over on stilettos taller than the Eiffel Tower and scooped the dog up, hugging him to her tightly as she glared at Cassie. Cassie estimated the dog’s outfit cost more than her last month’s rent. The woman didn’t bother to ask if she needed help. Hollywood. It was a different world from Texas.

She reached for her purse and slung it over her shoulder. Nothing else of value to save. Cassie prayed the passenger door would open. If it didn’t, she could always climb into the back seat and get out that way.

Suddenly, he was hollering. The guy she’d sort of hit. It must’ve been his car she’d smashed. If she hadn’t been sure before, she was now. Men and their cars—no one came between them.

Cassie giggled at her flash of wisdom. That was one car that wouldn’t be cruising around Beverly Hills anytime soon. Jeez, what would this do to her insurance? She already had two speeding tickets in the last eighteen months. Her insurance agent would drop her now. She’d be at the mercy of those goons that only advertised on late night TV. They charged an arm and a leg to cover high-risk drivers. She was now a charter member of that club.

She looked up as the guy inched closer, hobbling along, yelling, his arms waving. Breathing the fumes had her disoriented. She couldn’t understand what he was saying. She started to apologize but then remembered her mom told her never to apologize after a wreck because that could be construed as admitting guilt. She was at fault. Big time.

The guy made it to her and tried to yank the door open. It wouldn’t move. Before Cassie could speak, he reached through her open window and hauled her out.

“Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing?”

He mumbled something but all Cassie could do was stare at him. He had the most amazing gray eyes, dark and stormy and full of anger.

At her.

Recognition seared through her. “Oh, God. You’re Rhett Corrigan.”

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About the Author

Award-winning and internationally bestselling author Alexa Aston lives with her husband in a Dallas suburb, where she eats her fair share of dark chocolate and plots out stories while she walks every morning. She’s a binge fiend (The Crown and Ozark are favorites) who enjoys travel, sports, and time with her family.

Her historical romances bring to life loveable rogues and dashing knights, while her contemporary romances are light and flirty and sometimes contain a bit of suspense.

Connect:

Website: https://alexaaston.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AlexaAston

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Spotlight: Gaijin by Sarah Z Sleeper

Lucy, a budding journalist at Northwestern University, is obsessed with an exotic new student, Owen Ota, who becomes her lover and her sensei. When he disappears without explanation, she’s devastated and sets out to find him.

On her three-month quest across Japan, she finds only snippets of the elegant culture Owen had described. Instead she becomes a gaijin (the Japanese word meaning “unwelcome foreigner”). Lucy faces anti-U.S. protests, menacing street thugs and sexist treatment, and winds up at the base of Mt. Fuji, in the terrifying Suicide Forest. Will she ever find Owen, or will she be driven back to the U.S. alone? A coming-of-age story about a woman who solves a heartbreaking mystery that alters the trajectory of her life, Gaijin is loosely based on Sleeper's four years in Japan. She noted: "My protagonist, Lucy, faces an array of obstacles and troubles, and I can say that I did too while I was there. But Lucy is not me, she’s a fictional character. She’s an amalgam of emotions, instances and imagination, not to mention research.”

Excerpt

Excerpted from Gaijin. Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Z. Sleeper. All rights reserved. Published by Running Wild Press.

Mono No Aware

Awareness of Impermanence 

Love, tea and flowers. 

Impermanent, transcendent. 

Are you aware of beauty that flames up and out 

before it can root itself in the earth of truth?

Memory is truth, like brown dirt

smeared on a cherry-blossom pink canvas

—Inspired by antique Japanese porcelain gilded with makie

A person or a memory can sit inside you and you might have no choice about it. You don’t have to think about a person for him to be part of you. That’s what my best friend Rose told me years ago, in a moment when she saw me more clearly than I saw myself, a moment when I was restless and heartsick and about to board a plane to Japan.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “You’re going to hunt down Owen.”

I scoffed and lied, said I never thought of him.

Now years later, I know Rose was right, that you don’t get to decide what sticks and what doesn’t, who gets in and who gets blocked. You like to think you control your destiny and choose your path, but that’s not always the case. Sometimes you’re propelled forward in the most unexpected way when something or someone takes hold of you and doesn’t let go.

That’s how it happened to me. My college love, Owen Ota, burrowed his way into me one tantalizing moment at a time, over the course of a sweltering Indian summer at Northwestern University. He etched himself into the side of my neck and he took root in the pit of my stomach. He changed the trajectory of my life, set me in motion, and then he disappeared, like a puff of smoke or a phantom I’d hallucinated. He gave no feasible explanation, stopped all communication, and fled back to Tokyo in the same startling way he’d arrived. He was gone but I couldn’t let go. I needed to find Owen, and to experience the Japan he described. I clung to the notion that my dreams of the person and the place would match the reality.

Nothing, not Rose, not the application of common sense, could have dissuaded me from leaving Chicago on that overheated afternoon at O’Hare, when car horns, screeching voices and jet engines drowned out our goodbyes. A jumble of images jostled around in my brain, crowding out logical thoughts. Delicate pink cherry blossoms on porcelain teacups, a thin ivory book of haiku, a red silk blouse on polished glass skin, steaming spicy cuttlefish served on a black lacquer tray; a dazzling collage of the things Owen had shown me.

I was naïve and grief hollowed out my heart; I was determined to solve the mystery of his disappearance, as if finding him could erase the pain I’d felt when he abandoned me. I didn’t put it together then, the folly of searching for someone who didn’t want to be found, moving to a country I didn’t understand. And so, I went, flying into the unknown with a single suitcase of clothes, clutching my computer and cell phone as if they were life preservers.

On the plane I read the latest news from Japan. There were stories about the failed economic policies of the prime minister, the scandal of the royal princess who wanted to marry a commoner, the looming threat of North Korean missiles. Of course, I’d studied Japan in college, but looking back on that day, I knew nothing of the true character of the country.

The flight took an eternity and I immersed myself in a book of Japanese art filled with photos of ancient pottery and porcelain, chipped and faded, but glowing and glorious at the same time. I was striving to be a poet back then, a person who dealt in beauty and art, not only a journalist who worked with black ink and cold data. The art book held a luminous photo of a powder blue teacup swirled with feathery gold patterns, captioned, “Makie.” I Googled and learned that it meant “sprinkled picture.” Makie was an art object sprinkled with gold or silver powder, so that it gleamed with warmth. Inspired, I wrote a little poem on the plane, which I still have today. I titled it “Mono No Aware,” Awareness of Impermanence, a Japanese term I would come to understand deeply over time.

On my way to my new life in Japan, memories of my moments with Owen colored my mind with a makie haze. The landing of the plane brought the crash of reality. I was confronted by a gritty, dangerous nation, so unlike the exotic islands he’d described to me. A place where coworkers gave me gifts wrapped in gold foil while darting disdainful glances at me. I found few of the glamorous, mannered people I’d expected, and instead found an angry schizophrenic culture, alluring and hostile by turns, that kept me constantly at bay and confounded. And as I ventured further, in my quest to discover Owen’s fate, I realized I might not be able to find him before Japan chased me out, like the gaijin I was, a foreigner, unwelcomed by my adopted country.

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About the Author

Sarah Z. Sleeper is an ex-journalist with an MFA in creative writing. Gaijin is her first novel. Her short story, “A Few Innocuous Lines,” won an award from Writer’s Digest. Her non-fiction essay, “On Getting Vivian,” was published in The Shanghai Literary Review. Her poetry was published in A Year in Ink, San Diego Poetry Annual and Painters & Poets, and exhibited at the Bellarmine Museum. In the recent past she was an editor at New Rivers Press, and editor-in-chief of the literary journal Mason’s Road. She completed her MFA at Fairfield University in 2012. Prior to that she had a twenty-five-year career as a business writer and technology reporter and won three journalism awards and a fellowship at the National Press Foundation. For more information, please visit https://sarahzsleeper.com and follow Sarah on Twitter.