Spotlight: The Code for Love and Heartbreak by Jillian Cantor

In this contemporary romcom retelling of Jane Austen’s Emma by USA TODAY bestselling author Jillian Cantor, there’s nothing more complex—or unpredictable—than love.When math genius Emma and her coding club co-president, George, are tasked with brainstorming a new project, The Code for Love is born.George disapproves of Emma’s idea of creating a matchmaking app, accusing her of meddling in people’s lives. But all the happy new couples at school are proof that the app works. At least at first.Emma’s code is flawless. So why is it that perfectly matched couples start breaking up, the wrong people keep falling for each other, and Emma’s own feelings defy any algorithm?

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

 I’ve always loved numbers a whole lot more than I love people. For one thing, I can make numbers behave any way I want them to. No arguments, no questions. I write a line of code, and my computer performs a specific and very regulated task. Numbers don’t play games or hide behind some nuance I’ve missed. I write an equation, then formulate a definitive and absolutely correct answer. 

And maybe most importantly, numbers never leave me. I tell this to Izzy as she’s sitting on her suitcase, trying to force it closed, having just packed the last of her closet before leaving for her freshman year at UCLA, which is exactly 2,764 miles from our house in Highbury, New Jersey. A number which seems insurmountable, and which makes me think that after this day, Izzy’s last one at home until Christmas break, we’ll be more like two strangers floating across a continent from one another than sisters.

 “Numbers,” I say to Izzy now, “are much better than people.”

 “You’re such a nerd, Em,” Izzy says, but she stops what she’s doing and squeezes my arm affectionately, before finally getting the suitcase to zip. She’s a nerd, too, but not for numbers like me—for books. Izzy is running 2,764 miles away from New Jersey to read, to major in English at UCLA. Which is ridiculous, given she could’ve done the same at Rutgers, or the College of New Jersey, or almost any one of the other sixty-two colleges in our state, any of which would’ve been within driving distance so we could’ve seen each other on weekends. Izzy says she’s going to California for the sunshine, but Dad and I both know the real reason is that her boyfriend, John, decided to go to UCLA to study film. Izzy chose John over me, and that part stings the most. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually going,” I say, and not for the first time. I’ve been saying this to Izzy all summer, hoping she might change her mind. But now that her suitcase is zipped, it feels like she’s really leaving, and my eyes start to well up. I do love numbers more than people. Most people.

 Izzy and I are only seventeen months apart, and our mom died when we were both toddlers. Dad works a lot, and Izzy and I have barely been apart for more than a night in as long as I can remember, much less months.

 She stops messing with her suitcase now, walks over to where I’m sitting on her bed and puts her arm around me. I lean my head on her shoulder, and breathe in the comforting scent of her strawberry shampoo, one last time. “I’m going to miss you, too, Em,” she says. “But you’re going to have a great senior year.” She says it emphatically, her voice filled with enthusiasm that I don’t believe or even understand. 

“You really could stay,” I say. “You got into two colleges in New Jersey.” This has been my argument to her all summer. I keep thinking if I say it enough she really will change her mind. But even as I say it, I know it’s probably too late for her to change anything for fall semester now, no matter how much I might want her to. And she just looks back at me with worry all over her face. 

“Em, you know I can’t.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, pulling away from her. 

She leaves me on her bed, and goes back to her suitcase. She shifts it around, props it upright and then looks back at me. “You know what you need?” she says, breathing hard from managing the weight of her entire life, crammed inside this giant suitcase. “To get out there this year. Be more social. Get some friends. Maybe even a boyfriend.”

 “A boyfriend?” I half laugh, half sniffle at the ridiculousness of it. 

“If you keep busy, you won’t even notice I’m gone.” She speaks quickly, excitedly. There’s nothing Izzy likes more than a good plan, but this sounds terrible to me. “Christmas will be here before you know it—” she’s still talking “—then next year, you’ll be off to college, too.”

 Maybe that would be true for her, if I were the one leaving, and if she were staying here. If I were the older one, leaving for California first, Izzy would stay here, spend the year with John and barely even notice my absence. Which is what I guess she’s about to do at UCLA. But I’ve always needed Izzy much more than she’s needed me. 

“I hate being social. And I don’t want a boyfriend,” I say. “And anyway, you know what the boys are like at our high school. No thanks.” Mostly, they’re intimidated by me and my penchant for math, and I find their intimidation so annoying that I can barely even stand to have a conversation with them, much less a date. And the few that aren’t? Well, the one that isn’t—George—is my equal and co-president of coding club. He also happens to be John’s younger brother. We’re something like friends, George and I. Or maybe not, because we don’t really hang out outside of family stuff, school or coding club, and I guess in a way we’re supposed to be rivals. One of us will for certain be valedictorian of our class this year. The other will be salutatorian. And knowing George, he’s going to be more than a little bit annoyed when he’s staring at my back during graduation. 

“You love numbers so much and you’re so good at coding,” Izzy says now with a flip of her blond curls over her shoulder. She wheels the suitcase toward her bedroom door and stops and looks back at me. “You could always code yourself a boyfriend.” She shrugs, then laughs a little, trying to make this moment lighter. 

I don’t even crack a smile. “That’s a really ridiculous thing to say,” I tell her. “Thank God you’re going to be an English major.”

 But later, after it all fell apart, I would blame her. I’d say that it was all Izzy’s fault, that she started the unraveling of everything with her one stupid offhand comment on the morning that she left me.

Excerpted from The Code For Love and Heartbreak by Jillian Cantor Copyright © Jillian Cantor. Published by Inkyard Press.

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About the Author

Jillian Cantor is the author of award-winning and bestselling novels for adults and teens, including In Another Time, The Hours Count, Margot, and The Lost Letter, which was a USA Today bestseller. She has a BA in English from Penn State University and an MFA from the University of Arizona. Cantor lives in Arizona with her husband and two sons.

Connect:

Author Website: https://www.jilliancantor.com/

TWITTER: @JillianCantor

Facebook: @AuthorJillianCantor

Insta: @JillianCantor

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1651861.Jillian_Cantor 

Cover Reveal: Smoke Screen by K. Nilsson

(The Blue Trilogy, #2)
Publication date: October 2020
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Synopsis:

She was a distraction. He was a mistake.

Now they’re in each others’ way.

Rookie investigator Devyn Foster knows the pain of losing family. It’s what drives her to do what she does – finding the missing and the lost and returning them to their families.

Her latest assignment is no different, finding the computer a whiz who disappeared while working on a mysterious project. Even though his case has gone cold, she won’t let his elderly parents suffer. She will find him and return him back to them.

But that was before the one-night stand that changed everything…

Private Investigator Max Carson has never let anything—or anyone—stop him from getting the job done. So when he’s hired to track down a software program that could change the world, that’s exactly what he’s going to do… until he finds himself in a dead heat with a woman who’s just as determined as he is to get the job done on her own terms.

Now Max has to deal with two problems: how to get Devyn out of the way… and out of his heart.

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About the Author

K. Nilsson's love of reading began with the Bobbsey twins. When she ran across some Italian True Romance novellas stashed in the attic, the musty serials hooked her on adult fiction. Though black and white photos were dramatic enough to know what the stories were about, she taught herself to read in Italian and translated them to her friends.  She's an unapologetic reviewer of books, restaurants, and vacation destinations.  An amateur photographer, K. loves taking editorial photos and documenting her travels. Her personal philosophy, sleeping is a waste of time.

Connect:

http://kimbernilsson.com/

https://www.instagram.com/kimbernilsson/

https://twitter.com/kimber_nilsson

https://www.facebook.com/kimbersworld

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17022263.K_Nilsson

Spotlight: Christmas Wishes (Soul Sisters at Cedar Mountain Lodge, #3) by Tammy L Grace

Soul Sisters at Cedar Mountain Lodge, Book 3

Romance, Holiday Romance, Women's Fiction

Release Date: October 8, 2020

Publisher: Lone Mountain Press

Random circumstances brought them together. Love made them family.

With Jo O’Malley’s busy career as a lawyer in Chicago, she rarely gets home to Idaho, but this year is different. Her little sister is getting married on Christmas Eve and she has two whole weeks to spend in the snow-covered mountains, with the three foster sisters she loves and Maddie, the woman who made them a family fifteen years ago.

Things get off to a rough start when the wedding is canceled, but Maddie asks them to enjoy their holidays together at the festive lodge as planned, in order to console their sister. It’s straight forward enough until Jo, through a chance encounter with a gorgeous golden retriever, runs into Luke, a boy she knew from her early childhood when she spent all her time at the local library.

Jo’s not sure how to handle the unexpected attraction and her new feelings for Luke, who is all grown up now, handsome, and as kind as ever. He’s set on staying close to his family in Granite Ridge and she has a plane ticket back to her life in Chicago after the new year. Are the sparks between them merely due to the nostalgia of the season, or will Luke open Jo’s heart to the prospect of passion for something beyond her career?

If you’re a fan of small towns, heartwarming holiday stories, and second chances, along with a few furry friends, you’ll fall in love with Jo and her soul sisters in CHRISTMAS WISHES, Book 3 of Soul Sisters at Cedar Mountain Lodge, from USA Today bestselling author, Tammy L. Grace.

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About the Author

Tammy L. Grace is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author who entertains readers with perfect escapes in women’s fiction and clever whodunit mysteries. Her works in women’s fiction include her best-selling Hometown Harbor Series set in the beautiful Pacific Northwest and Beach Haven, the first in her new Glass Beach Cottage Series, set in coastal Washington. She also writes the Cooper Harrington Detective Series, featuring a quirky private detective and his faithful golden retriever. Her heartwarming Christmas in Silver Falls novellas are perfect for readers who enjoy Hallmark Christmas Movies 

She is a fan of dogs and includes furry companions in all of her books and has published two dog-centric novels for Bookouture, under her pen name, Casey Wilson.

Born and raised in Nevada, Tammy L. Grace loved reading at a young age. With the help of her middle school teacher, she discovered the joy of writing. When Tammy isn't working on ideas for a novel, she's spending time with family and friends or supporting her addiction to books and chocolate. She and her husband have one grown son and a new golden retriever puppy.

Connect:

Website: http://www.tammylgrace.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TammyLGrace

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tammylgrace.books

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCei5GUWLSuD3tLBl81-Fa9w

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tammy-l-grace

Spotlight: 42 MILLION TO ONE: A Political Thriller Inspired by Real Events by Hal Malchow

On August 4th, Double M Publishing released Hal Malchow’s latest book, 42 MILLION TO ONE, a political thriller about voting machine manipulation. In this book, Lucy Gilmore, a young reporter, becomes convinced that our voting machines are being manipulated and election outcomes changed. She undertakes a journey in which she discovers a series of real events demonstrating how easy it is to hack a voting machine and how hard it is to get caught

Excerpt

1

Lucy Gilmore

One summer night in Charleston, South Carolina, I saw something I was not supposed to see. I wasn’t even looking. That is God’s truth. But I saw. And the next thing I knew my whole world was turning upside down.

My name is Lucy Gilmore. At the time this story begins I was 25 years old and a reporter for The Washington Post. I had attained this lofty position at a young age after, as a cub reporter in Rock Hill, South Carolina, I uncovered graft in City Hall and was fired by my editor, a close friend of the mayor. Jobless but determined, I dug through the city dump to find the documents I needed and took them to the Charlotte Observer, which ran the story. The whole trium- phant martyr thing was cause for celebration in newspaper circles. A job offer from The Washington Post followed.

Okay, that’s all good but that’s not the story I am here to tell. I’ve got a better story, much better. It begins in Charleston, South Carolina, on primary election day in 2018. You see, my uncle, my beloved uncle, Vince Rawlings, was running for the United States Senate. I drove down from Washington, D.C., for his primary elec- tion night party.

His Republican opponent was Jim Mintura, a pompous Tea Party incumbent senator. Vince had never run statewide. He had been a circuit judge. But in a recent SCIndex/Crantford poll Vince had pulled within seven points of Mintura even though hardly any-body in South Carolina even knew who my uncle was. So Democrats, while still skeptical of his chances, were starting to talk my uncle up. The primary was a whole other matter. Vince was basically unopposed. Basically. He had an opponent named Barry White. White spent no money, made no campaign appearances, and had no website. I later learned that his filing fee of $10,400 was paid anon- ymously. His campaign strategy seemed to be to hide in his house and hope no voter would knock on his door. So all we thought about that night was the upcoming fall campaign against Jim Mintura. The celebration was held at eight that night at the Southend Brewery, one of these new brew pubs that had gotten pretty popular. It was a refurbished warehouse and when you walked in the door the first thing you saw was a big row of stainless steel tanks telling you their beer was fresh. Vince’s party was on the second floor, one cavernous room that overlooked the harbor. We retreated to the back corner of the room and gathered around one TV.

In most victory celebrations, the candidate waits in a suite several floors up and, when the outcome is clear, he or she makes a grand appearance, a sometimes gracious speech, and, of course, regardless of the outcome, thanks all who had given their time and money for the campaign.

But Uncle Vince was right there in the room chatting, giving hugs, glowing in anticipation of the small victory he was about to achieve. I walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He turned, opened his arms, and consumed me in a huge hug that I was, frankly, damned proud to receive. He stepped back and looked at me with a large smile.

“Lucy, you look great. Congratulations on getting that job at The Post. No one deserved it more.” Then he paused and his smile spread. “How are those Cubs doing?”

Okay, I am a Cubs fan. Holy Jesus. I am a huge Cubs fan. But more on that later.

“Not as well as you are going to do tonight, Uncle Vince.”

I thought back to the year my father died. I was 12 years old. My mom was cold and distant. We were no help to each other. For months, I could hardly leave my room.

But Uncle Vince stopped by the house at least twice a week. He talked to me about life and adversity and how if I could not get my dad back at least I had to make him proud. He told me I was special, and he described to me the great person I might become. Gradually, at his urgings I found my feet again.

As I looked at Uncle Vince, I retrieved my handkerchief—I always carry one—and wiped my eyes.

Boy oh boy, there we all were: me, Uncle Vince, and about 40 friends, waiting to cheer, celebrate, and raise a glass honoring the first step on his journey to the United States Senate. All eyes watched the TV screen waiting on the first returns.

The first 12,000 votes were reported at 8:41 p.m.: 4,800 for Vince, 7,200 for his opponent, Barry White. Those were surprising numbers, but this unknown candidate was not going to beat Uncle Vince. Then came a second report and a third.

With half the vote counted, White had 52,289. Uncle Vince’s total? 33,483. How could Barry White be winning? No one in the room had even heard of this guy.

Vince’s campaign manager leaned over his laptop, scanning returns.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “Something is very wrong.”

A group of supporters surrounded his computer screen hoping for an explanation. Geography told us nothing. Except for Vince’s home county, White led almost everywhere. That couldn’t be. The manager stood up and scratched his chin, confusion darkening his face.

An assistant ran to the table.

“Walter,” the assistant said, referring to the manager. “I got    a call from the Secretary of State’s office with some surprising information.”

“What?” the campaign manager asked.

“We may be losing in almost every part of the state, but in half the counties we are winning the absentee ballots with 80 percent. Overall, we are winning the absentee votes by 11 points. Does that ever happen?”

“Never,” he answered.

The manager kneaded his brow. Then his face went white. “Oh my God,” he said, almost in a whisper. He left to talk to Vince.

* * *

As the returns poured in, I was as confused as everyone else. So I sought out some people I knew to be well informed in all matters of South Carolina politics. Slowly, some pieces of the puzzle began to emerge.

First, if White was winning the polling place ballots and Uncle Vince was winning the absentee ballots, what was the difference? The difference was that the absentee ballots, in most counties, were counted by hand. All the other vote totals came from a machine.

Second, South Carolina had bought all these new voting machines statewide. All our machines were computers where the voter touched the screen to indicate a choice. You put your finger on the candidate you support and, voila, that candidate gets your vote. But because there were no paper ballots, there was absolutely no way to know if the computer was delivering an honest count.

Let me tell you. It gets worse.

There were reports from voters across the state that they had pressed the button for Vince, but the machines showed Barry White as their choice.

All this was making me queasy. By the end of the night my hopes and Uncle Vince’s candidacy lay on the floor waiting for the broom and dustpan to lift them away.

* * *

The next day, political pundits of all stripes weighed in to explain the result. Some of these so-called experts suggested that ballot position was the explanation. Barry White was listed first on the ballot and that explained everything. But I researched that issue. There were serious academic studies of the effect of being first on the ballot. The effect varied, depending on how much the voters actually knew about the candidates. But even where the voters knew noth- ing, the effect was pretty small.

Then there was the “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love” theory, referring to the famous song sung by the legendary R&B singer, Barry White. According to this theory, voters entering the voting booth had confused Barry White the candidate with Barry White the singer and had cast their votes to send the wrong Barry White croon- ing up I-95 to Washington, D.C., even though Barry White the singer had been dead for more than a decade.

But once you discarded these theories you faced a set of disturb- ing questions. Why were the machine counts different from the hand counts? Could these voting machines have actually been rigged?

I called a longtime political reporter at the Post, Bernadette Simpson, someone who would know about vote counting, stolen elections, and enterprises of that sort.

“Bernadette, I need your perspective. I am down here in South Carolina and there are some things about this Democratic Senate pri- mary that don’t feel right. Do you know anything about program- ming voting machines to change the count?”

“Not a thing but it would not surprise me. This country has had a pretty long history of vote fixing but not much in recent years, at least not that has been caught.”

“Enlighten me.”

“In 1960, Mayor Richard Daley of Chicago voted the cemetery to help John Kennedy carry Illinois and enter the White House. In the 19th century the corrupt political machine, Tammany Hall, once voted 55,000 votes in a precinct with only 41,000 voters. Lyndon Johnson had apparently lost his 1948 race for US Senate when a box of ‘lost’ ballots suddenly appeared, giving him just enough votes to reverse the outcome. These are just a few examples.”

“But all that was 50 years ago, at least.”

“Boss Tweed didn’t have our technology. Maybe with comput- ers he could have gotten thousands more votes.”

“How easy is it to manipulate the machines? It can’t be easy, can it? I mean, if they could, then any scummy politico could…”

“Sounds like a theory, but that’s not my expertise, Lucy. I’m afraid I don’t know.”

I had a lot to learn.

In the meantime, Vince Rawlings smelled the same rat. He hired a computer expert to examine the machines. He also filed a protest with the South Carolina Democratic Committee.

* * *

I went back to Washington and went to work. The more I learned the more my stomach turned.

I talked to a computer expert who worked with voting machines. Could you program a voting machine to change the outcome of an election?

“Sure can. It takes three lines of code. Two lines adjust the vote counts any way you want.”

“What is the third line for?” I asked.

“The third line erases all three lines on election night so that if someone wanted to check the code, all evidence of the crime would be gone.”

So there it was. If you inspected the code, all evidence would be gone.

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About the Author

Hal Malchow has enjoyed a long and successful career as one of America’s leading political consultants, and has worked for five Democratic presidential nominees. Hal Malchow’s writing career began when his then eight-year-old son approached him about writing a book together. Two years later, they completed the first draft of The Sword of Darrow, a highly acclaimed young adult fantasy novel. In 2014, he published a sequel, The Dragon and the Firefly. He followed that book in 2018 with a political thriller, No Popes in Heaven. His new book, 42 Million to One, is a fictional story set against an alarming background of real events demonstrating how easy it is to hack a voting machine and change the outcome of our elections and evidence that outcomes have been changed.

Connect:

Twitter: @halmalchow

Instagram: @halmalchow

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/hmalchow?ref=br_rs

Website: https://halmalchow.com/

Cover Reveal: It's Always Been You by A.M. Williams

Release Date: 10/23

Series: Holiday Springs Resort, #1

Tropes/Genres: Friends to Lovers, Contemporary Romance, Holiday Romance

Two best friends and one tiny honeymoon suite...what's the worst that could happen?

When my ex decided to leave me just three weeks before our wedding, I did the only thing a girl could do. I grabbed my best friend and headed for the mountains to celebrate my newfound freedom and get over my broken heart while taking full advantage of all of the pre-paid amenities that should have happened on my honeymoon. There's just one problem: Holiday Springs Resort is booked solid and I may have forgotten to change our reservations. Now Zeke and I are forced to share a bed, but am I ready to share my heart again so soon?

Delaney always seemed to be the right girl at the wrong time. With her ex-fiance out of the picture, it's up to me to mend her broken heart. There's just one problem: I've been in love with her since the day we met. With all the romance in the air, it's hard to fight back the tension between us. What was supposed to be a fun-filled rebound trip between friends suddenly heats up to so much more. 

Falling in love could mean risking our friendship. Are we both willing to take that leap? One thing is for sure - this trip changes everything.

If you like snowy locales, sizzling romance, and a scene with a hot tub, then you'll love It's Always Been You, the first book in a new series. 

Escape to the romantic paradise of Holiday Springs and warm up with your next happily ever after.

Pre-Order It’s Always Been You Today! 

About A.M. Williams

A.M. Williams is just a simple girl from the south that found herself living abroad. When she’s not annoying her cat or reading, she’s spending time with her husband and traveling as much as possible. She has a serious case of wanderlust and wants to go as many places as possible while she can. She loves Cheerwine, sweet tea, and North Carolina (eastern style) BBQ as well as those crystal clear waters on the North Carolina coast.

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Spotlight: The Trapped Daughter by Jay Kerk

Publication date: September 12th 2020
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller

Have you ever been trapped somewhere? I have.

Have you ever found that the world does not believe you? I did.

I have been betrayed by the people I trusted the most. They coil around me like snakes, lulling me with whispers about protection and safety and for your own good.

They offer up pills like sweets, promising me relief. Just take the meds and everything will be fine, Belle – the meds, Belle, the meds.

Everything will not be fine, and it never will be again. Justice is gone from the world. I have been wronged by Gabe, the man I loved most, and when I turned to others for backup, they sided with him because he’s a star. When I ran to my father for safety, he locked me up in his great big mansion and threw away the key. Now I drift like the ghost Gabe pretended I was, my bare feet tasting the coldness of rich tiles, my breath turning to ice.

Gabe isn’t real, they tell me. They insult me, they spit at me, then smile and pretend that they wish to help. Meanwhile, Gabe is out there, luxuriating in all that I won for him, and I suffer and burn.

Excerpt

About Gabe: 2011

We met for the first time on a dry autumn day. If I had known who I was going to meet on that day and what he would do to me, I would have turned back… but innocent me had no idea. 

It was the kind of clichéd meeting most hopeless romantics dream of. 

The ground was carpeted with leaves, and I was surrounded by the huge oak trees they’d fallen from, trying to cram my way through the crowded main entrance to the university. The passage could probably hold a few hundred of the thirty thousand students registered in an academic year at once, and it was hot with the smell of excitement and sweat.

I am a shy person, but back then – there should have been a stronger word to describe how shy I was. I walked with my gaze on my feet, my hair across my face, my shoulders hunched inwards as others bumped and barged me from left and right. I walked as one who wants to be invisible and has almost – almost – achieved it.

The last bump was hard enough to knock my notepad out of my hand. I bent to pick it up, and was faced with a hand that wasn’t mine on the pages. I lifted my head and saw Gabe squatting in front of me.  

Our eyes met, and I felt the butterflies, felt my mouth turn dry. I crouched motionlessly, bewildered by how perfect he was. Without a word, he gave me the book and hurried away, looking at his watch. I told myself, this is fate. I will marry this man one day. 

I didn’t want anyone else. I loved him before he became a superstar – and once he did, I adored him.

I wish I could to listen to his music, waltz into one of his shows, a casual observer with nothing to lose, nothing to care about. People die from broken hearts, but I haven’t died. Yet. 

I never I imagined I could stay in love with someone for so long. 

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About the Author

Jay Kerk uses his medical background and clinical experience as a physician to research and create disturbing psychological thrillers. His main driver is his fascination with the human mind and its vast capabilities, and he loves complex situations that test and challenge reality.

Connect:

https://www.jaykerk.com/

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJayKerk/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jay-kerk

https://twitter.com/kerkjay

https://www.instagram.com/authorjaykerk/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19342973.Jay_Kerk

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