Spotlight: Just Shelby by Brooklyn James

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Genre: YA Coming of Age/Romance

Release Date: October 27th 2020

A secret note square found in a handmade guitar proves that small town gossip is not only ubiquitous but occasionally true. This gossip comes with strings rivaling those on Ace Cooper’s guitar, the safest strings he will ever have around his heart.

Ace’s father warns him to stay away from the Lynn girl. Daughter of a deceased bootlegger and a barely living addict, Shelby Lynn is no stranger to small town contempt. She keeps her nose in the books and feet to the ground, a college scholarship the only escape from her tumultuous life.

As Ace’s heartstrings unravel, so does his family’s role in Shelby’s broken past. Thrust into a precarious journey of their roots brimming with music and betrayal, the two have never been closer...to the truth of how Shelby’s father died. One truth transforms every facet of their lives forever.

A dual POV friends-to-first-love story, Just Shelby is an unsuspecting mystery that depicts how growing together can sometimes hurt worse than growing apart.

Excerpt

“All better,” I say, before pressing my lips to the injured flesh. My father having done that to me on a few memorable occasions throughout my clumsy childhood, I guess, maybe, I think it is the thing to do. Until I realize what I have done. I have come on to Ace Cooper?

He comes back—leaning into me until his forehead is level with mine. Like the fit of a perfect running shoe from toe to tip, there is but a thumb’s width of room between our noses.

“Why’d you do that?” he asks what I am thinking.

Stock-still and flush all over—mouth full of cotton in suspense—my tongue has not the articulation to form the words I don’t know.

Forget butterflies and mush. This feels like a chemical reaction. Exothermic. Combustible. Humans can’t actually explode. Can they?

“Why?” He presses with his words and with the parted mouth they came out of, ever closer to mine.

“Energy,” I puff, unable to elaborate that it is carried in the form of movement, for the elaborate task that breathing proves to be.

“Energy?” he says, as perplexed by my nerdy answer as I am this sensation.

“Energy doesn’t lie. It just…felt right.” I come clean.

“But it’s not right. It’s all wrong. You can’t just do stuff like that.” Bereft of its usual self-possession, his voice is full of anguish. “Do you know what that does to me?”

Maybe, hopefully, the same thing it is doing to me.

Yes. It is. My hand clutched in his and guided to his chest—the heart beneath it hammers. Just like mine.

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About the Author

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Brooklyn James is an author/singer-songwriter who savors any opportunity to blend books with music. Her first novel, The Boots My Mother Gave Me, has an original music soundtrack and was an Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Quarter Finalist. She holds an M.A. in Communication, a B.S. in both Nursing and Animal Science, and lives in Texas Hill Country with her husband and two children.

Connect:

Website: https://www.brooklyn-james.com/

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

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brooklynjamesauthor/

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SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/brooklyn-james-author

Twitter: https://twitter.com/brooklynjames7

Spotlight: I Was Called Barabbas by Michael House

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We know precious little of the man called Barabbas, a contemporary of Jesus of Nazareth. He is variously described in the historical record as thief, murderer, rebel, and notable Roman prisoner. 

His release by the Roman Prefect Pontius Pilate was part of the supernatural plan for the Christ to offer himself as the ultimate blood sacrifice, but it’s doubtful Barabbas understood any of that at the time.

Many have wondered what became of him, or rather, who he became after that fateful day. Someday we will know the answer, but in the meantime, we can imagine that, like all of us, he too sought a path of personal redemption, imperfectly.

In I Was Called Barabbas, Michael House offers his vision of Barabbas’ life by imagining what came after his momentous encounter with Jesus of Nazareth.

Excerpt

“I have indeed honored sound judgment and worthy tradition,” responded Pilate coolly, “and I will continue to do so.” He shifted his attention again to the crowd, his voice rising. “You ask for a noteworthy prisoner to be released at the celebration of your Passover feast, and I give you Jesus of Nazareth that you may show your great mercy and forbearance in sparing his life while you denounce his claims. This will raise your esteem among your people, and lessen his. Is that not fair? Is that not wise? At the same time, I heed the words of your High Priest, Caiaphas, that the blood of a man is required as a sacrifice for your people at this time, and since you cannot shed this blood, I do it for you. I shall execute the murderer Barabbas, also called Jesus, as an example to all those who fight against Rome, betray your people, and sin against your god. This is the true path forward.”

The crowd appeared stunned, flummoxed like a goat hit between the eyes with a stone. Some appeared to be considering Pilate’s words as they conversed in sharp whispers, while others began shaking their heads and stamping their feet like jilted toddlers, their faces going red. I looked to see Amalek’s reaction. His brow was furrowed in frantic thought and apparent anger, which he attempted to keep in check in the presence of the Romans. 

Pilate lifted his chin slightly and smiled at Amalek. Beyond them, I noted that Jesus remained as composed as before, his eyes tinged with sadness instead of fear. 

Finally, Amalek spoke, again paying obeisance to Pilate. “Your proposal has merit, wise prefect, but our scribes and elders have been out among the people, finding out their minds, weighing their reactions to what we might do today. Many of those scribes and elders are here, and their counsel is much greater than mine, so we should ask them which choice is best ... by your leave, of course.” He said the last with a deep but brief bow, and Pilate stared at him a moment before giving a curt nod.

Amalek turned to address the crowd. “You have heard our wise governor's reasoning, and I ask you now to weigh it against the present mind and mood of the people that many of you have been diligently and privily finding out. Which prisoner should be executed, that goodwill may be maximized across the entire province, this peaceful land of the children of Abraham?”

In ragged but energetic unison the gathered elites yelled, “Jesus of Nazareth!”

“Are you sure?” asked Amalek theatrically.

“Crucify him!” they shouted again, even louder. “Crucify him!” They continued to chant that boisterously for nearly a full minute, until Amalek raised his hands again, quieting them. He turned to Pilate, gesturing at the crowd.

“We believe in the Pax Romana, most honored prefect. And the voice of the people believes that the blood of the false king Jesus of Nazareth is required for that peace to be maintained.” I detected a threat in his tone, which was daring.

I had nearly turned my entire body toward the scene playing out between Pilate and Amalek, and the centurion was so focused on them as well that he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Pilate stared at Amalek for several long moments, then at the crowd, full of men and women of great influence and wealth in what had always been a restless province. Finally, he turned and gestured to someone behind him. A young boy hurried forward carrying a small basin of water which he held in front of Pilate. The prefect thrust in his hands, then removed them and rubbed them together vigorously as if washing them. Then he raised them, palms outward as he faced the crowd.

“Rome will execute your chosen prisoner,” he intoned solemnly, “but his blood is not on Rome, and it is not on me. His blood is your responsibility alone.”

Amalek nodded gravely, though I could tell he was trying not to gloat in front of his audience. “We accept this responsibility, prefect. God requires his blood, so let it be upon us as a gift for our obedience.”

A loud shout of victory arose from the throng amid jumping, waving of fists, and gleefully vicious smiles peppered with laughter. “Let it be upon us! Let it be upon us!” they chanted.

I shivered suddenly, and then it struck me like a bolt of lightning out of a clear sky. Jesus of Nazareth was to be executed in my place. My place. I was a murderer and a thief. I had abandoned my family. Jesus was a teacher, and, if the rumors were true, a healer. He had never harmed anyone. He had never shed blood. And yet his would be spilled while mine would be spared. To what purpose? Why would God countenance such a thing? And why would my people demand it? My weary mind could find no answers, and while I should have felt peace, I was deeply unsettled.

Pilate barely spared me a glance as he turned and left, a disdainful, disgusted look on his face that I doubt was meant for me. As he passed the centurion, he gestured toward Jesus and said, “Take him to the Praetorium and prepare him.” 

The centurion saluted, then barked out orders to soldiers who jumped to comply. Then he turned toward me, the repulsed look on his face causing me to instinctively cower.

“You are free, scum ... for now. But I will be watching, and I’m sure we will meet again.”

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About the Author

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MICHAEL HOUSE is the author of I Was Called Barabbas and Patriot Star. Before beginning his second career as a writer, he worked for twenty-five years in the world of corporate finance, strategic planning, and business development. Now, Michael lives in Utah with his wife, where he spends his time writing and enjoying his children and grandchildren. Learn more about Michael and his work at www.mdhouselive.com.

Connect:

Author’s Website: www.mdhouselive.com 

Author’s Facebook: www.facebook.com/LiteraryThunder 

Author’s Twitter: www.twitter.com/real_housemd

Cover Reveal: Something New by B. Ivy Woods

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Release Date: 12/04/2020

Series: Holiday Springs Resort, #6

Tropes/Genres: Jilted Bride, Contemporary Romance, Holiday Romance

A jilted bride and an overwhelmed banker from New York are about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime that neither of them saw coming. Sometimes love happens at the most unexpected times and places.

Romance writer, Nicole Ford, always believed in happy endings. Until her own groom left her standing at the altar. Determined to make her own happiness, she sets off for their romantic honeymoon at Holiday Springs, alone.

Barrett Pierce, an investment banker from the Big Apple, may have gotten himself in a little hot water and needs to take a break before he's in too deep. Fleeing to the mountains, he has one plan - clearing his head and figuring out a way to fix his mistakes.

Neither of them were looking for romance but they sure found each other and discovered a passion they couldn’t ignore. Forget something old, and something blue...this time these two love birds have found something brand new.

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

Pre-Order Something New Today! Amazon

About B. Ivy Woods

B. Ivy Woods has been writing for as long as she can remember. After getting her Bachelor of Arts in Political Science and Environmental Policy and a Master in Energy Policy and Law degree and working in the environmental field for several years, she decided to become a stay-at-home mom. That is when thoughts of a writing career really took off. Although she competed in NaNoWriMo multiple times, 2019 was the first year that she won. This win inspired her to make writing a career. She self-published her debut novel in 2020.

Although she is originally from New York City, she currently lives in the DMV (Washington, D.C., Maryland, Virginia) with her husband, daughter, dog, and cat.

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Spotlight: The Blind Boxer by Jim Lester

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Sports Fiction, Historical Fiction, Fiction

Published: September 2020

"Rocky meets the Shawshank Redemption"

Set in the real American dystopia of the Great Depression, The Blind Boxer is the story of a prison inmate known as Harvard who is offered his freedom if he will participate in a mysterious boxing match. Harvard, who is a former professional fighter, suffering from failing eyesight, is joined by two other fighters, but when the Big Fight begins the inmates learn that the rules of prize fighting and fair play no longer count and survival is the name of the game.

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About the Author

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Jim Lester holds a Ph.D in history and is the author of four successful young adult novels as well as a history of college basketball in the 1950s.

Connect:

Website: http://www.jimlesterbooks.com

Spotlight: Snowed in With the Firefighter by Victoria James

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Genre:  Holiday Romance

 Dr. Melody Mayberry’s life just took a turn that’s left her questioning everything. Where better to hide out than the remote family cabin in the mountains? The last thing she expects to find there is her swoon-worthy brother-in-law, the one man who may have more baggage than her.

Finn Matthews is not ready to face the fact that the recent injury he sustained in a fire may have ended his firefighting career. He’s not interested in sharing the cabin with anyone, let alone Melody, and their family just texted with yet another unwelcome surprise—they’ll be there Christmas Eve.

To keep their meddling family at bay, the two team up to fake a little holiday cheer. But between ridiculously competitive Monopoly games, marathon Christmas decorating, and a storm that strands them together with nothing but a fire and a warm couch, they realize something major—their fake holiday cheer isn’t feeling so fake anymore, and that’s something neither of these two Grinches expected...

Exclusive Excerpt 

“Christmas with all of them? Decorating? He pointed at Melody with his coffee mug. “This is your fault. You can’t just go around saying our worst nightmares out loud and expect them not to happen.”

She gasped. “That’s ridiculous. And not at all how the world works.”

He shook his head. “You believe what you want. We’re stuck either way. The worst part is they’re all…” He grimaced. “Nice. Like, too nice. And over-the-top happy. And this is their cabin, so we can’t even say no.”

She groaned. “I know. They probably think they’re doing us a favor. We have no choice. Other than just run away, which is still a possibility, but that’s too obvious at this point. I guess we’re doing Christmas and we have to fake being happy.”

He frowned. “I’m happy.”

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing on him. “You’re about as happy as I am.”

“Fine. But I wouldn’t say I’m that bad.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He sipped his coffee slowly, deliberating whether or not he wanted to start an argument or end this conversation. If he ever hoped to get her to open up, an argument probably wasn’t the way to go. “I’m just saying, you seem really unhappy, and it seems like I’m not the only one who thinks that. Everyone must. That’s why they’re coming up here. They probably already assumed you wouldn’t go back for Christmas.”

“How do you know this is about me? If I were them, I’d be more worried about the person who’s been locked away up here for months,” she said with a triumphant little smirk, which he found inexplicably adorable.

He grunted. “Well, when they get here, they’ll see just how happy I am.”

She shook her head and crossed the kitchen, grabbing a notepad and a bunch of different-colored pens from her purse. He straightened up, worried, as she started writing. “What is all that?”

“Planning. Faking happiness and Christmas cheer takes a lot of work. No one will believe us. No one will believe you, especially with that beard. So now we’re going to start a list of things to decorate and get ready so no one thinks we’re miserable. We have three days to get happy.”

He walked over to the island. “Can’t a man let his facial hair grow without constant commentary? This doesn’t mean I’m miserable.”

She gave him a side-eyed glance and continued with her notes. “You need to shave it off. They won’t stop bothering you until you do.”

He turned his attention to what she was writing. The page was divided into columns, and the heading for the first column was Happy Decorations in red ink, underlined a few times.

The next column was Happy Food.

He didn’t even know what was happening anymore. “I didn’t know there was happy food.”

She paused and gave him a pitiful glance. “Of course, because you’re not happy. Hot chocolate, eggnog, gingerbread cookies…oh, marshmallows for the hot chocolate—happy people love adding those—and we should get some kind of pre-fab gingerbread house for Isabella.”

“I think happy people make them from scratch,” he said, just to bother her.

She shook her head, still writing. “We don’t have time.”

“None of that stuff is going to make people think we’re happy,” he said, pointing to the ridiculous list.

She put down her pen with a theatrical sigh and turned to him. “Do you have a better idea? I mean, the only thing I’ve heard out of you since we got the text is blaming me for bringing the family down onto us and your self-consciousness about your beard. We’re stuck in this situation together, so it would be really nice to have some cooperation. Think outside the box. Like, look at this chart I’m making. I think we should make more coffee and brainstorm.”

He was barely following her train of thought. “What? I’m not making a chart on how to be happy, Melody. I know how to be happy. I’m a very happy person. No color coding in the world is going to make me look happier,” he snapped.

She gave him a side-eye and a smirk. “Sure. So happy.”

He ran his hand over his beard and forced himself to not sound irritated. “Also, I’m not self-conscious about my beard.”

She raised a brow and picked up a green pen. He had the uncontrollable urge to grab all the pens and throw them in the snow.

“You know what this is?” he asked, wondering how he hadn’t seen this all along.

She finished her coffee and let the pen fall from her hands before crossing her arms over her chest and turning to him again. “Let’s hear it. Hopefully, it involves shaving the beard.”

He frowned and ignored that comment. “Well, you know how they’re all sitting there plotting about us. Trying to set us up?”

She frowned. “No, I don’t think so. I think they got the message. Nothing would ever happen between us.”

He took a step closer to her, slightly irked that she felt that way. “Fine. Wishful thinking. Ben’s trying to get me back because this is what I did when Molly moved to Shadow Creek.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You set them up and meddled?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, it was pretty bad. I literally threw him under the bus. Our mother was coming out of surgery, and I told her they were engaged. I’m basically responsible for their entire relationship.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure that’s a gross exaggeration. But anyway…so? What does this have to do with us?”

“Ben and Molly must actually think they can do the same thing to us. What I did took talent. The whole idea is ridiculous. Way too much snooping in our lives. They won’t let you go away for the holidays and run from whatever it is you’re running from, I’m not allowed to grow facial hair without a doctor’s note, and then they make it obvious they’re trying to set us up. Clearly the only logical thing for us to do is actually pretend their dumb trick worked.” He leaned back and grinned. “We pretend to be a couple for the holidays.”

She choked on her coffee. “Are you kidding me?” she managed in a strangled voice, her eyes wide.

He wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or be insulted. “Why would I lie about this? Think about it: we’ll get the ultimate victory when Christmas is over, and we tell them it was all a joke. As if you and I would ever get together.”

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About Victoria James

Victoria James is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance.

Victoria always knew she wanted to be a writer and in grade five, she penned her first story, bound it (with staples and a cardboard cover) and did all the illustrations herself. Luckily, this book will never see the light of day again.

In high school she fell in love with historical romance and then contemporary romance. After graduating University with an English Literature degree, Victoria pursued a degree in Interior Design and then opened her own business. After her first child, Victoria knew it was time to fulfill her dream of writing romantic fiction.

Victoria is a hopeless romantic who is living her dream, penning happily-ever-after's for her characters in between managing kids and the family business. Writing on a laptop in the middle of the country in a rambling old Victorian house would be ideal, but she's quite content living in suburbia with her husband, their two young children, and very bad cat.

Sign up for Victoria's Newsletter to stay up to date on upcoming releases and exclusive giveaways, follow her blog for daily antics and insight into her daily life, and get to know her on twitter and Facebook. She loves hearing from readers! www.victoriajames.ca

Connect with Victoria:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Spotlight: Let It Snow by Cassie Cross

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Genre: Holiday Romance 

Amy Winstead is a twenty something video producer who loves Christmas more than anyone she’s ever known. This year, the holidays are gonna be a lot less happy because she can’t afford the plane ticket home to celebrate with her family, and her best and oldest friend Josh is moving halfway across the country for a new job that he couldn’t turn down.

When Josh asks her to accompany him on his road trip from Texas to Connecticut and offers to pay for her plane ticket back home, how could Amy say no? He’s promised some fun surprises on the trip, and more time with him could never be a bad thing.

One surprise Josh hasn’t planned on is the record-breaking blizzard heading their way. They decide to wait out the storm in the charming town of Holly Hill, where a little holiday magic and a lot of snow combine to help Josh and Amy realize that the something that’s always simmered between them could easily become something more…

Exclusive Excerpt

Fate blessed me the moment Josh Abbott came into my life. It was just before his first birthday, when I was six weeks old. My mom set me down across his lap, posing us for a picture that I keep a copy of on my phone, one that’s framed and displayed on the fireplace mantel at my parents’ house. 

In it, Josh is wearing this little yellow and blue striped t-shirt, his blonde hair a cute mess that was his trademark until we graduated from high school. I have on a light pink onesie with a hood that has ears on it. Josh grins down at me as I hold his finger in a white-knuckled grip. 

Mom says neither one of us wanted to let go that day, and that’s when she and Josh’s mom, Gloria, knew we’d be best friends forever. 

Twenty-six years later, we’re still inseparable…for the next six days, at least. That’s when Josh is loading up his car and making the drive from Austin to Connecticut to start a new job that he just couldn’t turn down. They offered him almost double his current salary; I can’t really blame him for ditching me right before my favorite holiday, honestly.

I’m trying to learn how to deal with it. Most days, I desperately lie to myself about how living without him won’t be as bad as I think. Then I wind up flip-flopping between being irrationally angry at him and unfathomably sad. I’m constantly 100% head-over-heels in love with him. 

That’s my little secret, though. 

For one brief moment, I had a sliver of hope that we were on the same page. He invited me out to dinner at our favorite place, and I’d gotten swept up in fantasies that he’d take my hands across the table, smile that gorgeous smile of his and say, “Ames, I’m in love with you.” 

What he actually said was, “Ames, I’m moving back home. I got a job in New York.” 

I can’t blame him for trying to soften the blow with barbecue, but I lost my appetite after that. 

I haven’t really gotten it back. It’s worked out in my favor for the most part, since this time of year I’m working a schedule that doesn’t allow much time for eating. I’m an editor/producer for a social media baking star. We’re about four months ahead in the production schedule, so while it’s Christmas in real time, it’s been Easter in my world for the past few weeks. I’ve barely had time for a real meal, so I’ve basically just been inhaling the baked goods after we’ve finished taking pictures of them for Instagram. 

Yesterday, I had a handful of almonds and a sizable portion of a bunny’s butt made out of yellow cake, raspberry jam, and the most amazingly fluffy buttercream frosting I’ve ever had. 

At this point, my body is screaming, NUTRIENTS, PLEASE!

Josh knows me like the back of his hand, and has some kind of weird internal alarm that sounds whenever I’ve gone a few days without eating a vegetable. I’m positive that’s why he invited me over to eat, and why I gave him a hard time before I said yes. 

I know I’m lucky to have a friend like him. He’s smart, he’s fun, he’s funny, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s model-gorgeous and an absolute pleasure to look at, especially when he’s in the kitchen making me dinner. 

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About Cassie Cross

 Cassie Cross is a Maryland native and a romantic at heart, who lives outside of Baltimore with her two dogs and a closet full of shoes. Cassie’s fondness for swoon-worthy men and strong women are the inspiration for most of her stories, and when she’s not busy writing a book, you’ll probably find her eating takeout and indulging in her love of 80’s sitcoms.

Connect with Cassie: Website | Twitter | Instagram | Facebook