Friday, November 27, 2015

Blog Tour Love or Justice with Giveaway



“How do you hunt down a killer when he’s also hunting you?”


Laurie Shelton is the only person alive who can identify Hawaii’s most notorious mob boss…


After stumbling into a deadly kidnapping, Laurie’s life is in grave danger, and it falls to US Marshal Dante Stark to keep her safe until she testifies against Kaimi Quamboa—assuming he can be captured.


Dante knows he’ll lose his job if he becomes romantically involved with a witness…


But when he has to comfort her through constant nightmares, he finds it nearly impossible to fight his attraction to the beautiful, strong young woman he is sworn to protect. Laurie feels it too, but aware she’s in a high-stress situation and that when the danger is past she’ll never see Dante again, she tries to ignore his easygoing smile and the security he offers.


Laurie and Dante are forced to flee again…


When Kaimi’s men descend on their hideaway, they escape to a second safe house, only to be tracked down there as well. Dante now knows there’s a mole inside the US Marshal Service, and the only thing left to do is disappear.


Kaimi will never stop looking for Laurie, and if he’s caught, showing up to testify could be the last thing she ever does.


With each choice as dangerous as the next, Dante and Laurie must confront the boundaries of what they’re willing to sacrifice, and which is more important…


Love or Justice.






Excerpt II for Love or Justice


Later that night, David’s false alarm was all Laurie wanted to talk about as they got ready for bed. Laurie sat on her bed, pulling her nightclothes out of her bag.
Dante took out his nightshirt and sweats, laying them beside his sleeping bag. He was determined to sleep in his own bed tonight, no matter what happened. He had been on dangerous ground the last couple of nights, but he mentally committed himself to stopping it tonight.
“I don’t think I could do it. Be away from my husband when I’m about to give birth.” Laurie ran a brush through her hair.
“Lots of people have to, military wives, police wives when their husbands are on long assignments, Marshals Service. It’s just something that happens. Love the man; you have to love the job too.”
“Yeah, I guess, but God that must be hard.”
“It is hard. I’ve seen a lot of men do it. It makes them crazy. David’s doing well with it though. He’s going to be a great Witsec Inspector.”
“Well, he should be doing great with it. Apparently he has the best teacher.” Laurie winked at him.
Dante laughed.
“Don’t pay any attention to Rick.” Dante shook his head. “He trained me, so if that tells you—”
“Intruder!” Max yelled from downstairs. The sound of several gun shots followed, then return gunfire.
Laurie sucked in a breath, and stared at Dante in shock.
Dante grabbed her, dragging her into the hall. He unlatched the safe room with a swift motion. Without a word, he thrust her in, slamming the door.
As soon as Dante closed the safe room door, David burst through his bedroom door.
“Laurie?” was all David said. Dante pointed to the safe room.
“This way.” Dante got out his gun and moved down the hall.
Dante never expected a gun battle here. He led David to the mouth of the hallway where they crouched down low to the floor. Dante could hear shots and return fire. Max and Cheyn were both still fighting. Dante intended to give them cover.
He gestured to David to cover the left. He crouched close to the right side of the hallway and inched his way forward until he could see out over the living room. Then he ducked back behind the wall. He was just above Max, who was hiding behind a protrusion in the stonewall that housed the fireplace.
Max shot across the room at a man behind the couch.
Dante aimed. When the man popped up again, Dante let off a round. The man flew backward, and lay on the floor. Dante crouched back down again.
He could still hear gunshots coming from the living room below him. He maneuvered himself to see where else Max was aiming. There was another man hiding just outside the door to the patio. The man’s gunfire hit the stone wall with a sharp rapping and the tinkling of broken stone. Dante took aim, but the assailant saw him. Dante ducked behind the wall.
Two more shots came. One to him, the other to Max. The former missed, the second didn’t.
Dante turned back to the scene just in time to see Max crumple to the floor. He took aim at the assailant and fired. The man crumpled to the ground as well.
Dante heard continued gunfire on the left side of the house. He crawled over to David, who shot and then ducked for cover. There was an armed man crouched on the other side of the counter toward the open front door. He used both as an effective shield from the gunfire. Dante took aim, but had to duck as a bullet flew at them, narrowly missing his head.
David returned fire. It caught the man in the neck.
He fell to the floor. All was silent.
“Where’s Cheyn?” Dante glanced down into the kitchen.
“Kitchen floor. He’s bleeding, but I don’t know where he got shot.”
“Any more of them?”
“I don’t think so, I only saw one.”
Dante grabbed his cell phone. He punched the radio button.
“The Hilo safe house has been assaulted. Two officers down. Three assailants dead. Requesting immediate back-up and medical assistance!”
“Copy that, safe house. Back-up and medical assistance is on the way,” responded the voice on the other side of the phone. Dante stuck the phone back in his pocket.
“David, we have to secure the house. I’m going to crawl out to the end of the landing. I need you to cover me.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Dante was halfway down the landing, a shot rang out from a part of the kitchen below where David was crouched.
A scream came from the hallway behind Dante. Oh God. Laurie was out of the safe room.






Author Rachel Mannino

Rachel Mannino is a passionate writer who creates characters and settings that allow readers to explore power dynamics in relationships, the empowerment of women, and the ethical and moral dilemmas love can create in our lives. Rachel also uses her writing skills to raise thousands of dollars for entities that enrich our lives and create community change around the world. She has worked for the Peace Corps; the Humanities Council of Washington, DC; Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company; and the Mayor’s Office of Arts, Tourism and Special Events in Boston, MA. Her first novel, Love or Justice, will be published by Limitless Press in 2016. Her second novel, Fractal, will be published by eTreasures publishing in the spring of 2016. Rachel has a BA in theatre studies and writing, literature, and publishing from Emerson College, and she has used it every day since graduation. She lives with her husband, author Christopher Mannino (http://www.christophermannino.com/), and their adorable dog and cat in College Park, Maryland.





















Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Randi's Steps Blog Tour




Blurb



If only her life were a story on paper, she could tear it into a million pieces and start over. Ten-year-old Francie McLean’s life hasn’t been the same since her best friend started battling cancer. Francie wants to be loyal and caring to Randi, but when put to the test, she fails. Will their friendship survive the disease that changes everything?










Author Bio

After graduating from the Fashion Institute of Technology, Frances worked for Bridal Guide Magazine as well as other companies as a freelance artist. When she began homeschool teaching, she turned her creative talents toward writing children’s books, writing every day as well as taking classes. Her work has been published in Clubhouse Jr. Magazine, anthologies, and Christian homeschooling newsletters. She has received two honorable mention awards in the 2010 and 2015 Writer’s Digest Annual Contest and has won nine first place Faithwriter’s Editor’s Choice awards. She has written close to two hundred short stories and poems. She also enjoys writing for her blog, francysnewmorning.com. Frances lives on Long Island with her husband, five children and a little Yorkie with a big bark.





Excerpt/Spotlight

I swing higher and think about how Randi’s bouncy ponytail forms a long spiral. She always looks cute. My straight brown hair resembles a pilgrim boy’s. She has baby-smooth skin the color of rich cream. Freckles splash across my nose, like splattered paint. I’ve tried erasing them, but they’re stuck. White-out almost worked, until Mom made me wash the “white blobs” off my face.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes. A sports car zooms by, revving and blasting music. It sounds like Mr. Picconi’s Corvette convertible, a car he named “Jenny” and keeps hidden in the garage.

I stop swinging and daydream. On sunny days, Randi’s father would open the garage, remove his treasure, and take us for a ride with the top down. I imagined we were on the Thunderbolt Rollercoaster as he sped down the hill at the end of our street. We giggled as our stomachs felt butterfly tickles. I loved riding in the sparkly turquoise Corvette, a hundred times nicer than our squash colored station wagon. All of the boys on our block stared as we drove around in a car cooler than any of their Hot Wheels. Randi and I pretended we were the queens of Hartwell Drive.

“Hello, hello people,” we called out as we waved royal-looking waves. “We’re taking a drive through our kingdom. See you later at the castle.” I could taste the air, like a mouthful of cotton candy melting on my tongue.

The sweet tasting air suddenly turns to wet snowflakes. I leap off and trudge toward warmth, fighting the bitter wind and snow that press against me. The flakes melt on my face, blending with my tears.

I turn the front door knob like a thief trying not to trip the alarm. I want to sneak down the hall and crawl under my covers without being seen or heard. It works until my bed creaks.

“Are you okay, Francie?”

I don’t answer. I try to muffle my crying in the pillow, but those muffled cries are the alarm to Mom. A gentle knock, Mom’s knock, and the door creaks open.

Mom sits down next to me. “You can talk to me when you need to. I’m proud of you for being such a good friend.” Mom’s voice is soft and she rubs my back.

I sit up and wipe my eyes. “She’s gonna be gone a whole month in the hospital.” I picture counting the days on a calendar. A month is so long. All I want to do is sleep, wake up tomorrow, and drive away, even on the stupid school bus. Anything to get away from this mess.


http://doubledeckerbooks.blogspot.com/2015/10/sign-up-to-review-randis-steps.html

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Blog Tour: Ponderins


Author Ponderins by Michele Ward

My poetry began in the late 1980s. Some of my ideas came from my life as a nun for 7 years at the Monastery of St. Gertrude and my struggles of entering and leaving. Many of my ideas are born from books, from other people, from depression, from delight, from nature and from every opportunism I can think of.


“Every poem is the autobiography of the emotion.” Stanley Plumly

"Michele uses her talent of words to share her own inner-self through the words of her poems. Some will be heartbreaking truth of the trials she has gone through and others will display her love for life and how she sees the world through her own eyes and with her kind and most caring heart. Michele also touches her darker side in words about her struggle with depression.

I ask as you travel down the road of her story written in between these lines of poems that you will grow to love her work and her." Poet Jeniann Bowers.



 Buy Ponderins TODAY in Paperback or Kindle on Amazon!



“I AM” 
By Michele Ward 

I AM . . . Woven Wind, clearing troubled, anxious minds. Let me fluff the tresses of your straw-strewn hair.

I AM . . . Sky, filled with hopes and dreams. Dream of my possibilities for you.

I AM . . . Earth, nurturing seeds and expressing life. Hold me in you hands and smell me. Squish me soft between your naked toes.

I AM . . . Sea, with many-voiced waves whispering peace and squalling surrender. Roll up your jeans and frolic in my beauty.

I AM . . . fire, guided light and energy for your journey here. Diffuse me only if you dare.

I AM . . . Smoke, warning you of eminent danger. Watch for me.

I AM . . . Creek, on a refreshing and quenching quest, accompanying you on the curls and coils of travel.

I AM . . . Garden, to behold and nourish. I need weeding, watering, watching, sunrays bright, with dazzling light and song.

I AM. . . Grass, to cool and soften your senses. Go ahead; take off your shoes, walk on me. Let me refresh your feet for frolic.

I AM . . Flower. They call me blossom. Enjoy my short-lived beauty, frail and fragrant. Caress me quiet and elegant.

I AM . . . Rain, to soothe and shower you with trickling memories. Come outside and keep me company in the marvel of my downpour. Play in me.

I AM . . . Thunder, to release you from your daily doldrums.

I AM . . . Lightening. They call me Neon Sky. Thunder speaks of me. Look for me when thunder shakes your world. I’ll be there to entertain you and spark adventure in you languid life.

I AM . . . Ocean Tide, the ebb and flow of life: In-flowing good, out-flowing bad. But you never know what the tide is going to bring in. Hold my hand so we both won’t be swept away with the out-going bad. It is not always good to be alone.

I AM . . .Sunbeam. I love to make your body warm all over. But I can be dangerous. Don’t get too close for too long or I’ll burn you. Allow me space to glow when and where you can. Don’t shut me out all day. A little dose of me can be good for your moody moments.

I AM . . .Air, the substance you breathe. Do not take me for granted. Help me to stay pure for you. Inhale me; take me in.

I AM . . . Tree. Birds rush to settle safe in my branched arms. Come dawdle in my shade. Climb up and behold the freedom I feel up here to stir the sky senseless.

I AM . . . Bird. I dance on wind-tides to the tempo of my wings, sprinkling nymph and gnome notes over fields of dreams dreamt.

I AM . . . Music. Dance with me please! I love to dance to the rhythm of nature. Listen . Do you hear it? Or is the silence too loud for you?

I AM . . . Silence. I bring you calm and intuition. To you I promise magic. Take time to soak in my essence. Let me soften you - within and without.

I AM . . . GOD, your friend. …………….come closer.


April 12, 2001



 Buy Ponderins TODAY in Paperback or Kindle on Amazon! 


Interview with Michele Ward


When did you start writing poetry?
I started writing poetry in the late 1980s.

Do you have a favorite poem in your book, ‘Ponderings’?

My favorite poem in my book is, "I AM."

Who are your favorite poets to read?
My favorite poets to read are Dylan Thomas, Jeniann Bowers and E.E. Cummings.

What inspires you to write?
Much of my inspiration to write comes from books, friends, depression, delight, nature and every opportunism I can think of.

What do you hope readers take away/learn from you poetry?
When someone reads my poetry, I hope it resonates with their own experiences in life, be it tears or just that warm feeling one gets when they think, "I've been there; I can relate."  Or the nature poetry, "I feel like I just took a walk in the woods." 


 Buy Ponderins TODAY in Paperback or Kindle on Amazon!



@HargrovePerth Miss Crabtree's School for Unnaturals Blog Tour





Deep in the woods sits an unassuming house, one not noticed by those who pass it by, but inside exists those the world has forgotten, the Unnaturals, children born with magic from an ancient source, who also possess supernatural powers that make them dangerous to the outside world. Outcasts and misunderstood, they are taken in by Miss Crabtree, the loving Headmistress of the School.

Here, at the School for Unnaturals, they learn to control their gifts and learn the art of Spellbinding under her care. When the war comes to England, their lives are placed in danger as the threat of the Nazis overtaking England, and a secret society called the Ahnenerbe, desire to use the Unnaturals to give them an advantage during World War II.

When an impassioned plea is made for her children to help save England, Miss Crabtree must rally her students to stand tall in the world of the Mundanes, the same world that made them outcasts. With time running out, they must fight to stay alive and out of the hands of the Nazi Regime as the War rages across Europe.
 Author Hargrove Perth

Hargrove spends a great deal of time researching the larger than life characters of history to formulate characters unforgettable, despised, and strangely adored. She writes horror, dark romance, and paranormal in the Adult, New Adult, and YA categories. She recently paired with her long time friend, author Dorothy Dawson, (who is the author of the acclaimed Banesville Series) to write House at Whispering Oaks, their first dual novel together that is a Paranormal Clean Read. 2014 Author of the Year by Double Decker Books in Historical/Horror.

Links