Spotlight: The Darkest Chase by Nicole Snow

Publication date: July 20th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Two complete opposites fall into a heart-ripping fairy tale in this scorching hot small-town grumpy sunshine romance by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

Life is just full of crazy surprises with teeth.
One day you’re the forever single wallflower keeping up the boring family furniture shop.
The next, you’re getting mouth-to-mouth from a scary hot stranger who wants to make your life a thriller novel.
Yes, my disaster has a name.

Micah Ainsley.
Everything I’m not. Nothing remotely good for me.
He’s all wolf—moody, savage, and ferociously protective.
I’m a human puppy.
He thrives on secrets.
Everybody knows what I had for breakfast.
He’s experienced. So experienced.
I’ve never even been kissed.

But when he needs my help to take down a rich creep who just happens to be my new client, I’m game.
I’m ready to live a little.
I’m eager to prove I’m more than a hot mess with a cross-eyed crush on a coldhearted man who’s too old for me.

Then another surprise bites me in the face.
The night Micah claims me.
The moment our wrong becomes reality and there’s no going back.
The darkest chase is on and it only ends one way—sweet dreams or total devastation.

All the small-town sugar, spice, and angsty goodness in one epic slow-burn romance. Remember to breathe as you watch Redhaven’s coldest man thaw for the little spark he’ll fight like mad to keep.

Excerpt

“You saved me in your phone as Vampire Man?” I raise both brows.

“Um.” Talia freezes, looking at me sheepishly with her phone clutched in both hands. “…guilty,” she whispers with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry?” 

“Uh-huh.” I lean back on my hands, just watching her. “Why did you do that?” 

“I just… you know, the first time we met—” 

“You mean when I gave you mouth-to-mouth in the middle of town? After your asthma attack,” I growl. 

Her face flashes pink. 

She swallows loudly, nodding. 

“Yeah. That time. It sorta felt like waking up from a dream. This beautiful man with sharp teeth and a red mouth hovering over me… I used to be a huge Anne Rice nerd. And Grandpa had me watching old Dark Shadows reruns from the time I was five.” 

“Uh-huh.” I never take my eyes off her. She’s squirming now, and there’s a predatory pulse in my heart that loves every bit of it. “Have you thought about my teeth, Talia? Do you want to be marked?” 

“Marked? O-oh.” Breathy, soft, and she’s already saying yes without really saying a single word. She can’t look away as her eyes gleam. “Maybe. I mean, you bit me before... but you were being gentle.” 

“That’s not a yes or a no,” I tease. 

Leaning forward, I prowl toward her. 

Every last little vulnerable thing about her jumps out at me. 

One minute, she’s this innocent angel who warms me with a light I can’t describe, who makes me feel like if I wanted, I might learn how to have a life again. 

The next minute, she’s prey, plain and simple. 

Her nostrils flare. 

Her breathing quickens. 

When she trembles again, I’m gone. 

Forever lost in this woman. 

My inner beast inhales deeply, stuck on her scent. 

Vanilla heaven. All mine for the taking. 

Closer.

Closer, every slow movement makes her tremble more until I’m right there.

She whimpers as I stop, almost nose to nose with her, our eyes locked. 

There’s more than rich vanilla rising off her now. This aromatic sweetness, heady and sharp. 

“Yes or no, Talia,” I breathe. “Do you want me to mark you?”

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback

About the Author

Nicole Snow is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She found her love of writing by hashing out love scenes on lunch breaks and plotting her great escape from boardrooms. Her work roared onto the indie romance scene in 2014 with her Grizzlies MC series.

Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty. With over a million books sold, she lives for the joy of making two people fight with every bit of their soul for a Happily Ever After.

Current fan favorites include her Enguard Protectors series, accidental love novels, plus long beloved MC romance thrillers like the Grizzlies and Deadly Pistols.

Connect:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7192004.Nicole_Snow
http://nicolesnowbooks.com/
https://twitter.com/Nicolesnowbooks
https://www.instagram.com/nicolesnowbooks/
https://www.facebook.com/nicolesnowbooks/
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/nicole-snow

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Spotlight: Sparks Ignite by Aurelia Yates

Publication date: July 26th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Colt Donovan has it all: a thriving bar, stunning looks, and a stream of admirers. But despite his success, he can’t shake the memory of Maggie Wilson, the woman who stole his heart during one unforgettable weekend. Her taste lingers on his lips, and her sassy spirit haunts his dreams.

Determined to find her, fate brings them together, but with a cruel twist—Maggie is now on the arm of his best friend. Torn between loyalty and desire, Colt faces a heart-wrenching dilemma: risk his friendship for the woman he can’t forget, or let her slip away forever.

Maggie, fresh from a painful breakup, dips her toes back into the dating pool, only to find no one compares to Colt Donovan. When he appears at her best friend’s wedding, his piercing blue eyes make her weak in the knees. Despite the man by her side, she can’t resist the magnetic pull of Colt’s presence.

Colt Donovan is trouble—the kind of trouble Maggie can’t afford, especially with danger lurking around every corner whenever he’s near. Can she navigate the treacherous waters of love and peril, or will she lose herself to the undeniable allure of the one man who makes her burn?

Dive into a whirlwind of passion, heartache, and suspense in this captivating romance where love tests the boundaries of friendship and fate.

Excerpt

Charles’ showing up has shaken me. I nervously fumble with my dress, trying to hide the embarrassment that’s bubbling inside me. I never would have thought Charles would do something so desperate. After he claimed we were too different and I was beneath him, I would have thought he would have moved on. He and Nat seem perfect for one another. They were both on the same level. The level where you’re in between childhood and adulthood. You still think of only yourself before others. Yeah, that one. 

Jay more than handled the problem and for that, I’m relieved. I’m not sure if he could see how upset I was or if it was a chance for him to get his hands dirty with blood. Something tells me he enjoys intimidating others along with beating the crap out of them. 

Speaking of the devil himself, he struts back into the tent with a smile that I could only describe as amusement. I’m sure his size makes him feel like King Kong. He’s standing around six-one, but his muscles are larger than most of the men I’ve ever seen. Other than one other man. I’ve had the pleasure of being pressed up against.

“Are you okay?” Jay asks. 

I nod, but I know I’m not. I don’t know how to feel. 

The D.J. taps on the microphone getting everyone’s attention, “I want to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Joel Huntingburg!” 

The music cranks up as Macy and Joel walk in holding hands and dancing onto the dance floor. Everyone claps and it seems the outburst is forgotten as the evening kicks in. 

After the newlywed couple cuts the cake, everyone takes their seat and I know it’s my time to make my speech. Tapping my glass, I stand up, “I want to make a toast,” holding up my glass I continue. “To the new couple. May your marriage be filled with happiness, and your hearts filled with love, and Macy, may you never have to call Bob again to do Joel’s handy work,” I wink at Macy and she laughs with a few others knowing exactly what the hell I’m referring to. 

Everyone cheers, “Here, here.”

A few hours later, when the non-partiers go home, the lights go dim and the atmosphere changes to more of a club style vibe. When couples make their way to the dance floor, I stay planted in my chair, not bothering to look up. Concentrating on the napkin in my hands, I twist and pick it apart. I should get up and socialize with the other bridesmaids who have all gathered at the edge of the dance floor, talking in a deep conversation, but I don’t have it in me. My body is tired from these past two weeks of running around gathering and collecting items for this beautiful event. 

When April, the girl I can’t stand, turns to her left and smiles at someone, I crane my neck to see who’s got her attention. I jump when someone’s breath fans my skin. 

“I need a dance,” the deep voice says. “You owe me a date.” 

Jay.

My cheeks heat with discomfort. I really don’t know why I agreed to go out with him. His good looks and bad boy persona make me want to run away. I can’t visualize him as being husband material. A good fuck, of course. He’s everything you would want sweating over you, but I’m not looking for a good fuck, so why did I agree? 

Sliding my chair back, I stand, only to face Jay as he softly wraps his hand around my waist, pulling me out of the dance floor. The music changes to a slower beat and I place my hands on his shoulders. 

I’m about to step into his embrace when my body is jerked backwards. I gasp when I stumble up against something solid. My body instantly melts. There’s one person who my body has ever melted for, Colt. 

“Your body remembers me, hmm?” He brushes his lips against my ear. “Does your pussy remember my fingers, or should I reintroduce them?”

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback

About the Author

International, Barnes and Noble and Amazon Best Selling Author

Aurelia writes contemporary and dark romance and enjoys reading it just as much! She lives in Alabama with her husband, daughter and fur babies. She spends most of her time taking care of her loved ones and plotting stories. Excited to begin this new journey, she’s looking forward to sharing her stories. 

Connect:
https://www.aureliayatesauthor.com/
https://www.facebook.com/aureliayatesauthor
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/aurelia-yates
https://www.instagram.com/aureliayatesauthor/
https://www.tiktok.com/@aureliayatesauthor
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22689072.Aurelia_Yates

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Spotlight: In Any Lifetime by Marc Guggenheim

A devoted husband defies fate and risks everything to find the one universe where his beloved wife is still alive in this bold and thought-provoking novel.

Dr. Jonas Cullen has spent his career as a groundbreaking physicist defying the odds. But on the best night of his life―the night his wife, Amanda, tells him they’re finally having a baby―everything is taken away when a tragic car accident claims the lives of Amanda and their unborn child.

Gutted by pain, Jonas sets out to find a way to bring back Amanda―or rather, find a parallel universe in which she’s still alive. But that’s easier said than done. As Jonas comes to understand all too well, the universe favors certain outcomes…and Amanda’s death is one of them.

Guggenheim’s novel takes readers on a suspenseful journey, intercutting scenes of Jonas’s frantic, present-day search across multiple realities with glimpses from the past of his unfolding romance and eventual marriage. Will Jonas and Amanda reunite in some other world, or will fate succeed in taking her from him forever?

Excerpt

In the quiet moments since his world was shattered, Jonas Cullen would reflect that fate had a sense of humor, which wasn’t exactly a quality he associated with a supernatural power—nor, for that matter, was an appreciation of irony. But both were applicable in ways that alternated between comedic and tragic. In the midnight hours, when sleep refused to come, he’d think back on that night, which started off as the best of his life—filled with milestones he had aspired to only in dreams—yet ended as the worst, the stuff of nightmares. 

He had stood backstage at Aula Magna, the largest auditorium at Sweden’s Stockholm University, cracking his knuckles against his rising anxiety. His wife, Amanda, had never managed to cure him of the fixation, but he found the habit oddly calming, the bones of his hands giving way with a series of satisfying pops, like kernels of corn or plastic packaging bubbles, as he imagined his stress evaporating into the air. 

The Aula Magna was built deep into the ground, which served to hide its massive size. Outside, visible beyond its glass facade, old oaks rose from the ground like giants, their limbs burdened with tufts of snow. The night sky was black silk festooned with diamonds.

The building had been designed by Ralph Erskine, a British architect who had lived in Sweden for most of his life. The Aula Magna wasn’t the first project that Erskine had undertaken for Stockholm University, but it was the last one completed before his death. Jonas felt that that piece of trivia lent the building an air of pathos. So appropriate, he thought, that a great man’s final achievement should serve as the site to mark the achievements of other men and women.

The speech that Jonas had labored over to acknowledge his own accomplishment pressed against him: four single-spaced pages, triple folded to fit inside the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. He told himself he didn’t need them. He could almost recite the entire thing from memory. His subject was a topic to which he had devoted the previous three years of his life. To expound on it, he reassured himself, was like describing walking or breathing or seeing. And yet his heart punched at the confines of his chest, and his hands felt clammy, and his stomach cursed the glass of champagne he had been convinced to drink at the party held in his honor less than three hours earlier. 

For the umpteenth time, Jonas reminded himself that he was comfortable speaking in public. The life of a college professor required at least one lecture a day. But this was no ordinary lecture, and those in attendance weren’t his students. This was the most important speech he would ever give in his life. 

Consequently, his tuxedo felt three sizes too small, as confining as a straitjacket. The starched collar grated against his throat. His tie felt like a noose. Even the patent leather shoes were punishing him for anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. Jonas found himself running out of ways to calm his nerves and wished for another glass of champagne— or two—despite the protestations of his gut.

He cracked his knuckles again, working one hand with the other, kneading it like dough.

 “Stop that. You’ll give yourself arthritis.” 

He turned to see Amanda approaching. She looked resplendent in her evening gown, the creation of some designer Jonas couldn’t name even upon pain of death. His wife had no interest in high fashion, but they had both been amused by the offer of free couture. The gown—which was truly a work of art—could be mistaken for the reason she appeared so radiant tonight, but Jonas knew better. There was something different about her that would have come across even if she’d been wearing a baggy sweat suit. She had a glow that was independent of her wardrobe. At thirty-four, Amanda Cullen could hardly be considered old, but this evening she seemed as though—while Jonas had been swilling champagne—she had sipped from the fountain of youth. Her eyes had a sparkle about them. She seemed brightened. Renewed.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Audible | Paperback | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Marc Guggenheim grew up on Long Island, New York, and earned his law degree from Boston University. After over four years in practice, he left law to pursue a career in television.

Today, Guggenheim is an Emmy Award–winning writer who writes for multiple mediums including television, film, video games, comic books, and new media. His work includes projects for such popular franchises as Percy Jackson, Star Wars, Call of Duty, Star Trek, and Planet of the Apes.

Guggenheim currently lives in Encino, California, with his wife, two daughters, and a handful of pets.

Spotlight: The Summer Camp Swap by Kait Nolan

Release Date: July 26 

It's a terrible idea.

Impersonating her twin for staff orientation at Camp Firefly Falls is sure to end badly, but Sarah Meadows can't say no. It's just a quick two-week break to help her sister out of a jam, then she'll be back to finishing her stalled master's thesis. Except when her sexy, ex-park ranger partner uncovers her secret, Sarah's summer takes an unexpected turn.

Beckett Hayes knows he should report Sarah to the boss. But intrigued by her determination and pulled in by those big, doe eyes, he decides to train her instead. He can’t help but root for the underdog, especially when the underdog starts to wiggle her way into his heart.

Sarah's leaving in a matter of days, so a workplace romance is the last thing they need, but that doesn't stop either of them from diving in. Except a situationship isn't part of Sarah's long-term plans. As the clock counts down to the swap, the lines between duty and desire blur. Can Beckett convince Sarah to follow her heart, or will they have to be satisfied with only a summer fling?

Find out in this charming conclusion to the Summer Fling trilogy!

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Audible | Paperback | Bookshop.org

Meet Kait Nolan:

Kait Nolan is a USA Today best selling, RITA® Award-winning Mississippi author who calls everyone sugar, honey, or darlin', and can wield a 'Bless your heart' like a Snuggie or a saber, depending on requirements. She believes in love, laughter, and that tacos are the world's most perfect food. When she's not writing, reading, or wrangling family (both the two-legged and the four-), you can find her obsessively watching The Great British Bake Off. 

Keep up with Kait Nolan and subscribe to her newsletter: https://kaitnolan.com/newsletter/

Kait Nolan & her books, visit here!

Connect with Kait Nolan: https://kaitnolan.com/contact/

Spotlight: Meant for Love by Natasha Madison

Release Date: July 26 

AVAILABLE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED

From Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and Amazon Bestselling Author Natasha Madison comes new A billionaire, marriage pact, opposites attract romance.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Unless you end up married!

From The This is Series and the Southern Wedding series comes Meant For Love

Zoey

When I first met him, I got butterflies in my stomach.

I thought it was silly and pushed it aside. Avoided him.

Besides, I was taken—unavailable. Or so I thought.

That was before he hired me to take over his company’s PR.

Now that we were working with each other, that meant he was completely off-limits.

Until one night in Vegas.

Nash

They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

Unless you ask the woman of your dreams to marry you while you are both drinking tequila.

And she says yes.

She thinks it’s a mistake.

She’s wrong.

Now I have ninety days to show her we’re meant for love.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Audible | Paperback

Meet Natasha Madison

When her nose isn’t buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she’s in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It’s a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn’t listen to her…

Keep up with Natasha Madison and subscribe to her newsletter https://www.natashamadisonauthor.com/

To learn more about Natasha Madison & her books, visit here!

Connect with Natasha Madison: https://www.natashamadisonauthor.com/contact-me

Spotlight: The Curse of the Flores Women by Angélica Lopes and Zoë Perry (Translator)

In this haunting novel about the enduring bonds of womanhood, a young girl weaves together the truth behind her family history and the secrets that resonate through generations.

Eighteen-year-old Alice Ribeiro is constantly fighting―against the status quo, female oppression in Brazil, and even her own mother. But when a family veil is passed down to her, Alice is compelled to fight for the rights of all womankind while also uncovering the hidden history of the women in her family.

Seven generations ago, the small town of Bom Retiro shunned the Flores women because of a “curse” that rendered them unlucky in love. With no men on the horizon to take care of them, the women learned the art of lacemaking to build lives of their own. But their peace was soon threatened by forces beyond any woman’s control.

 Excerpt

Text copyright © 2024 by Angélica Lopes, Published by Amazon Crossing

It was always an act of rebellion, albeit invisible. 

We knew there was a risk in what we were doing, and perhaps it was precisely the danger of being found out—small at first, barely evident to anyone’s eyes, intertwined with the threads of patterns we flaunted so discreetly on our lace handkerchiefs and veils—that emboldened us to take even greater risks. 

We weren’t all related, but we were united by the art of transforming thread and woven tape into lace. Here, on this patch of land where minor details matter more than big events, where the red clay ground is as cracked and lined as my Tia Firmina’s face—both sculpted by time and sorrow—where the fate of women is cut-and-dried, like the imperfect reverse side of the only story woven exclusively by our own desire and determination: lace. No other path wholly belonged to us. 

My friend Vitorina was the one responsible for making us the keepers of this knowledge, when she stood at the top of a ladder and spied the secret that had come all the way from the capital. 

“What are you doing up there, girl?” Hildinha asked when she saw her daughter lurking at the eaves above the guest room. 

“Leave me be, Mother. I’m trying to learn something that will be of great value.” 

Thanks to Vitorina’s curiosity, the lace technique that had adorned altars in Europe for centuries, a cloistered secret, known only to nuns inside convents in big cities, made its way to our little town, Bom Retiro. 

A matter of chance, a loose thread of fate, brought by the cousin of a cousin of another cousin of Vitorina’s, who, after her secret was stolen, never forgave my friend for her disloyalty. 

The girl worked as a kitchen maid inside a very strict convent. After several years of good service, she’d earned the nuns’ trust, and they taught her the art of lacemaking. At first, still unsure they could trust her, the nuns only taught her the basic stitches. It was only later, after observing the strength of the girl’s character and considering her worthy, that they showed her the more elaborate ones. 

Vitorina’s distant cousin had a “knack for lace,” as they used to say, and knew how to be discreet, an indispensable quality for the keepers of that secret. When the girl announced that she was going to visit relatives in the countryside for the holidays, the nuns warned her: 

“If you’re going to make lace when you’re back home, stay out of sight.” 

Always respectful of her superiors, the girl obeyed their orders. To keep her promise, made before the saints, that cousin of a cousin of another cousin of Vitorina’s only made lace when she was alone in the guest room, with just a yellow tallow candle to light her work. 

But at the top of a ladder, determined to find out what her cousin was doing in that room with the windows shut in the midday sun, Vitorina was watching. 

She watched so closely that she was able to memorize her every move. 

Hunched over a cylindrical pillow, her guest plaited threads into designs made up of all kinds of stitches: buttonhole, broom, tower, rib. Spider, moon, popcorn. 

Sunset, lovers stitch, and—my favorite—the bottom of the basket stitch, which enchanted me not so much for its shape, but for its name, which seemed to offer both a threat and a promise. An unknown, unexplored place that could hold fortune or hardship, where you might equally find a silver coin or a scorpion, something only revealed to those with the courage to take risks and stick their hand inside. 

Of course, the stitches weren’t actually called that back then. They arrived here in the Pajeú River Valley with foreign names, names we never learned. But, as we became familiar with them, we were able to identify their similarities with things in the world, baptizing them one by one, as if we’d always owned them. 

In the afternoons I spent hunched over my pillow, I tried to imagine what name I might give a stitch if I happened to come up with one of my own. Not that I had such ambition. But, in a moment of carelessness, the needle might get tangled in the thread, go where it shouldn’t, and voilà: a new stitch is born. 

It would be the first stitch created in this hot country, and not in the foreign land from where the first ones came, an ocean away from the Sertão, brought over by nuns and spied by Vitorina from the top of a ladder. 

Creek stitch, dew stitch, dawn stitch. 

Those were the names I had secretly chosen to christen my first stitch, which might never be invented. Son of the high-altitude Caatinga, the region where Lampião was also born, who, back then, in the year of grace of 1918, was just starting his life of crime, and of whom we would only hear about in Bom Retiro years later. A rambunctious story about men, so different from our story, that took place almost imperceptibly, between silences and whispers. 

I always believed that when I laid eyes on my newly created stitch, I’d know exactly what to call it. Just like mothers do with their children. Those who don’t risk giving their offspring a name that wasn’t meant to be. You choose Nonato in honor of his grandfather, but the boy insists on looking like a Casemiro for the rest of his life. Hence the abundance of nicknames in the world. After all, things choose their names, not us. 

As soon as the cousin of a cousin of another of Vitorina’s cousins returned to the convent, the secret Vitorina spied from the eaves was passed on to anyone willing to learn. In no time, a small group of women, myself included, began to meet daily to make fine tablecloths, doilies, placemats, and napkins. 

It didn’t take long for one of our pieces to make its way to the capital, a gift offered to a lady from a good family, who showed our work to another lady from a good family, who, in turn, over shortbreads and afternoon tea, showed it to another lady from a good family. 

“See how perfect it is? It’s from some backwater near Serra Talhada, but it looks like it was made in Europe. Do you think there’s any way to place an order?” 

Orders were quickly made. 

When ladies from good families show an interest in something, someone always seizes the opportunity to take a cut. 

Weeks later, a gentleman in a dark suit arrived in our town, sweating more than the local men who worked the land, announcing his intention to buy our work at a good price, for us and for him. 

Tia Firmina was responsible for dealing with the man. Because she was the oldest of the group and because she didn’t have children to steal her time, she could devote herself to taking orders and bookkeeping and then sharing the earnings equally among us. 

“If not for me, this guy would be putting one over on all of you. He tried to get a formal tablecloth for a pittance. What a bunch of malarkey! Lucky I’m here to defend our interests,” she boasted. 

When the first coins brought by the man in the dark suit were placed on the table, we were so engrossed admiring them that the moment seemed to go on forever. 

It was like they didn’t belong to us. Like museum pieces, with a sign that says “Do Not Touch” beneath them. 

“All that’s ours?” Vitorina asked, as if she couldn’t believe it. 

Until then, lacemaking was just a pastime for us, something to do on sultry afternoons. Some of us made lace for ourselves, creating gowns for balls that would never take place in our little town. Others made bedspreads for hope chests for marriages yet to be arranged. 

The exception was Tia Firmina, who devoted her time to making her own burial shroud. 

“I shall enter Heaven with the elegance Our Lord Jesus Christ deserves,” she announced, seeming a bit too anxious for a moment everyone tends to want to defer. 

As far as we knew, money was the exclusive affair of the men, who worked the land and tended the cattle. Be they bosses, landowners, or cattle owners. Be they laborers, henchmen, or peddlers. Be they our husbands, fathers, or brothers. The money was always theirs. 

We women were just the ones who cleared the table for them or ordered other women to clear the table for them. It was these men’s names, recorded on our birth and marriage certificates, that determined our place in the world. It was like that with most, except with my family.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Audible | Paperback

Angélica Lopes is a novelist, screenwriter, and journalist from Rio de Janeiro with over twenty years of experience in writing fiction. Her dramatic vein came from writing Brazilian soap operas, known worldwide for attracting millions of viewers daily. She is also an award-winning author of YA novels and has written scripts for cinema, TV series, and comedy shows. The Curse of the Flores Women is her first adult novel and was sold for translation in France and Italy even before being published in her native Brazil. 

Zoë Perry has translated the work of several contemporary Brazilian authors, including Emilio Fraia, Ana Paula Maia, Juliana Leite, Clara Drummond, Veronica Stigger, and Carol Bensimon. Her translations have appeared in the Paris Review, the New Yorker, Granta, Astra, n+1, and the New York Times. Perry’s translation of Ana Paula Maia’s Of Cattle and Men was awarded an English PEN grant, and she received a PEN/Heim grant for her translation of Veronica Stigger’s Opisanie swiata (Desription of the World). She is currently based in Miami.

a Rafflecopter giveaway