To me, summertime is rom com time. They're always light and fun to read and perfect for reading next to the pool or at the beach. So enjoy this excerpt from Big Wild Love Adventure by Julianna Keyes and then download your own copy. Be sure to check out the rest of the tour for more. And best of luck in the giveaway!
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If you like a little suspense with your historical romance, check out this excerpt from To Entice a Spy by Diane Scott Lewis. Be sure to follow the tour for even more. Let the author know what you think along the way. And then be sure to enter the giveaway at the end!
Eseld finished her punch and looked away.
“I was being friendly with the viscount, on a purely decent level, on my part.”
“I’m worried about you. Men can take advantage.
As in being purely mercenary.” Robert’s emotion rose to the surface, rawer than he wished. “I want you to be very cautious.”
“I’m aware of greedy men. And I’m not romantically involved, if that’s what concerns you.” She didn’t sound angry, more a question. A yearning?
“Are you collecting friends or inquiring where you should not?” He toned down his rhetoric, not wishing to upset her.
“That again. You think me foolish, or incapable.”
Her reply was soft despite what she stated. She didn’t deny her motives.
He moved closer. His heartbeat thudded; was she investigating a possible spy as he first surmised?
“You are one of the most capable women I know. Please, confide in me.”
They appeared to still dance around one another—this time with words.
She turned and faced him. “I don’t want us to be at odds.”
She paused for a moment and lightly touched his stock. “Is that all you seek, me to confide? Am I but a contrary girl who must be guided by you?”
“Truthfully, as we were always truthful in our youth, I want to kiss you.”
He cupped her upper arms and couldn’t believe he’d said that aloud. Her jasmine perfume invaded his senses.
“Pardon my boldness. I’m not of your station anymore, am I?”
“That doesn’t matter to me,” she whispered. “But aren’t you still in mourning?”
Romance, comedy, and mystery, three of my favorite things, all wrapped up into one book! Check out an excerpt from Temporarily Out of Luck by Vicki Batman and then download your own copy. Leave questions and comments below and then follow the tour for even more. Best of luck entering the giveaway!
Sometimes, I felt like a small white mouse housed in a cage with lots of small white mice, whose playground activities involved eating, sleeping, and continually revolving on the exercise wheel. Just like one rodent friend—who I named Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, having a field day back-flipping from the top of the spinning wheel—something happened. Unexpectedly, I found myself airborne.
Not hurt, a sense of disappointment overcame me, plus a bit of confusion, and a whole lot of colorful adjectives too numerous to list. I, mostly known as Hattie Cooks, shook off the pine shavings and joined the rat race. Sometimes, life sucked.
But wallowing? Not a good solution.
Being positive? A better one.
In most cases, a pitstop was a good idea, and I found comfort in my chocolate stockpile. And in most cases, I found empty shelves, for I had little dough to supply my habit due to the loss of my adored job as an assistant buyer at Sommerville’s top-class department store, Tucker’s, and the subsequent low-paying temporary ones I reluctantly took in the interim. Due to the expenses of rent, food, utilities, budgeting became my new compadré. However, for my recent birthday, Mom suggested friends and family provide me with treats. They were generous—gifting lots and lots of my favorite M&Ms in vast colors and flavors.
Mom’s idea totally rocked as the best birthday gift ever.
From outside my door, I heard Allan Wellborn smack the doorframe.
“You know how to find me.”
I roused from my ruminations and banged my forehead against the wall.
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Welcome to the book tour for Fated Always by Becky Flade! Today I'm sharing my thoughts on this romantic suspense novel. There's also an excerpt for you to enjoy and a great giveaway! Be sure to follow the tour to leave your questions and comments and to see even more!
“How’s the wine?” His lips feathered over hers in a whisper. Twice. On his third pass, Tala’s eyes drifted shut as her body molded itself to his and she deepened the caress. His world spun as she clung to him. I knew it. I’ve always known it. He stepped away, steadying her when she swayed, waited for her eyes to open. “Excellent.”
“What?”
He smiled. “The wine’s excellent.”
Her fingertips rose to her mouth. Her eyes widened, confusion blurred them. He smiled and pulled her into his arms. It was not a passionate embrace. He offered comfort and she held on, squeezing tighter when he placed a gentle kiss at her temple.
“Are you surprised?” he whispered.
“I have a boyfriend.”
“I wasn’t expecting that but it’s an easy enough fix.” He tugged her braid. “Come on, Tee. We’re meant to be.”
“No, we’re not.”
She reared out of his arms, panic skating across her features as though threatened. Her reaction struck him like a fist to the gut. He suspected she hadn’t taken him, taken them, from the box where she thought they belonged. She hadn’t considered them from any other perspective. I thought once she saw, once she felt, once she knew, the rest would click into place. “You know that we are.”
“Stop it! I. Have. A. Boyfriend.” She punctuated each word with a stab of her finger.
“Fine. I’ll wait.” It’ll kill me. “You’re worth it. We’re worth it,” he stressed before grabbing her wrist and tugging her back into his arms. He held her there, though she didn’t struggle. He kissed her again, pouring his impatience into the kiss. He let her go and strode to the door, pulling it open, letting the cool snap of air scented by forest file past him into her house, and paused.
“You want me to stop?”
She nodded.
“Then stop kissing me back.”
A Murder Mystery... A Romance... Intertwined
Mystery, Romantic Mystery
Publisher: Global Authors Publications
A Story Of Bad features a woman and a man, both intelligent with strong personalities.
She is June Replyn, a city reporter working the business side of the fashion world. June is asked to write a story about how a small company, a clothing factory, survives the death - by murder - of its inspirational leader.
He is Detective Terry Stans. Reviewing clues and interviews, Detective Stans comes away with the impression that the dead man knew his assailant, and his dedicated workers and bereaved family are all prospective suspects.
One day June is at the clothing factory gathering additional material, and Terry is there, continuing his investigation. The detective is stuck. The case is going nowhere, and he believes that the fashion writer has a better view of the inside workings of the company than he has been afforded. Hoping that fresh eyes will see something he hasn’t, he obtains a promise from her that nothing will be printed without his permission, then he invites her to come to his precinct station and review the file. Not long after, he invites her to dinner at his favorite ribs joint.
This novel is about a reporter and a detective, both asking questions about a murder - although from different perspectives - who become ensnared in a romance. Their relationship raises questions about confidentiality, loyalty to one’s employer, professional ethics; she is trying to write a story for her readers, he is trying to keep control of an investigation. Both of their bosses caution them about the dangers to their careers raised by this situation. And there they are, lovers.
The tale is designed to intrigue with two intertwining stories, the mystery of the murder and the unexpected love affair. As the relationship grows and the mystery is solved we visit the worlds of Cambodian employees in America, police investigations, newspapers and their editorial policies, and drug smuggling.
There is no graphic violence or sex in the novel.
Excerpt
In this excerpt June Replyn is interviewing two sisters, Cambodians, about a cousin and co-worker who was murdered in front of them. Because their English is quite limited, June has brought along Salath Doeung (Sal), a college student born in New York to Khmer-speaking parents.
The four sat in silence for a moment, sipping the hot green tea, eating the sweet, wonderful dessert, and then the conversation began again. June wrote some clarifying comments next to the notes she had hastily written as he was speaking. She took her time, her head down, not wanting to convey the least impatience. Silence, and she glanced up to see him writing. Then he said something else and the cousin’s smiles disappeared. They paused, and then in lowered voices began to speak. June felt like screaming, she wanted simultaneous translation. What were they saying? But she waited, waited. Finally they paused, and he turned back to her.
“Two things. The first is that she had done a little dating here but no boyfriends, and she liked it that way, she thinks it isn’t easy to be a married woman with little kids here, not if you don’t speak English. Like I said before, she really wanted to go home, planned on it, and pretty much was at work or here or a local restaurant, not out late, no mysteries. As far as your guess, the one you mentioned in the car, I think your impression is right, correct.”
June, head down, nodded slightly as she wrote.
“Second, someone at work, guy who unloads boxes and helps the cutter, assistant cutter I guess, had a fight with her about some boxes or materials or something. Something at work. They don’t know what it was about because Rith didn’t want to talk about it, most unusual, she liked to gossip. They had a fight, and after that she avoided him.”
“Avoided scared or avoided mad at?”
He turned back and there was a brief flurry of Khmer.
“Scared, but she didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Did they tell the police about this, and if so, why not?”
Even as she said it she realized her mistake; anyone living here, especially in lower-income neighborhoods, knows the word ‘police’ no matter what their language background or skills. The sisters visibly tensed.
He started to turn, but she stopped him.
“Wait, I just made a stupid error, they recognized the p-word and they’re already on guard. I really want to know the answers, hope you can fix things.”
He winked at her, a youthful show of confidence, and turned back to the two young women, who now sat holding their tea cups tightly in their laps, their backs straight. He spoke for some time, they both listening intently, occasionally glancing at June. Then he stopped, and no one spoke for almost a minute. Then Sopheara Moeun softly began to speak, said only a few words and her sister spoke sharply to her. Sopheara responded in a raised voice, Sopharath responded loudly, and suddenly both were standing on their feet, noses inches apart, screaming at each other. In the midst of this June noted that they carefully placed the teacups back on the tray, a gentle, delicate gesture while they shouted as loud as they could. Suddenly Sopharath whirled and looked at June with a startling combination of fear and anger, tears starting to run, and held out both hands, palms up, pleading, and said “You all make dead.” Her right hand changed, index finger pointing, and pointed at herself and her sister, back and forth, pointing at each several times. “You all make dead, you all make dead.” She ran from the room.
June wasn’t sure what to do next, so she did nothing. She lowered her eyes, giving up any control, trusting that her interpreter, who had done so well so far, would know what to do.
He said something softly, and Sopheara sat down again. He paused, then turned to June. “They do know something, they may even know who did it. They are, as you can see, scared. They didn’t say anything to the police for that reason, but now Sopheara feels that she has to make it right, has to help the Americans...I mean, the government, punish him.”
June took her time, spoke slowly and gently, nodding at Sopheara Moeun, trying to be positive, reassuring, conveying not only through the words to be translated but with her demeanor and tone of voice. “Please tell her this. First, she is doing the right thing, honoring her cousin’s memory, and that she is very brave. Second, I have.. friends... in the police department, and I promise her that they will be very careful, move cautiously, and not do anything that will.... No, that doesn’t work. Sorry. Say this, say that I will explain the situation and ask the police to be very careful.”
The Khmer began again, both speaking in soft voices for a short time. Then Sal leaned forward and gently patted Sopheara on the shoulder, looked her in the eyes and said something. She smiled shyly, got up and started to leave the room. She stopped in front of June and, while looking at her, said something in Khmer. Salath Doeung translated “I hope you are the one who wins.” Then she was gone.
About the Author
Edward M. Krauss is the author of A Story Of Bad; Solomon The Accountant (a gentle love story set in a middle-class Jewish community in Toledo, Ohio in 1950); Here On Moon (betrayal, divorce, recovery).
Contact Link
Purchase Links
The doorbell of Landon Manor sounded its Call to the Post chime, alerting those inside of a new arrival to the front door as efficiently as if a racing venue’s trumpet was summoning horses to the post. It was the only residence throughout The Meadows known for such a doorbell which was most befitting to its surroundings, as well as one that was forever remembered by those departing a visit to the stately manor. Whenever it sounded, it caused Agnes Harris to shake her head in a disgruntled manner as she fought the urge to gallop toward the door as if she were a late arrival to the lineup. This morning was no different, but she paused long enough to catch her breath while massaging the small of her back before opening the huge ornate door.
“Good morning,” announced the slight young woman standing on the column-lined terrace, gripping a suitcase in her left hand, while straightening her white cap sporting her school’s insignia with her right, “I am Autumn Leeves from Saint Joseph Hospital. I’ve been dispatched to care for Mrs. Alice Landon.”
Extending her right hand, Agnes observed, “Yes, Nurse Leeves, we’ve been expecting you. I am Agnes Harris, do come in.”
Stepping into the impressive foyer, the young nurse couldn’t help but stare about in awe as she had never seen such grandeur. Lowering her suitcase to the marble floor, she took a moment to drink it all in, before she expressed, “My, this is lovely, and I must say the sound of that doorbell is most impressive. It certainly lets one know they are entering the home of an equestrian master.”
Nodding in agreement, Agnes said, “That it does. I’ve heard it multiple times, but it never ceases to elicit the need to lope for the door, ha-ha, and at my age, the loping seems to get slower every day. I’m sure you are most anxious to get settled in your room before meeting Mr. and Mrs. Landon. They are both looking forward to meeting you. You come highly recommended.”
“Well that’s nice to hear,” Autumn acknowledged, and with a smile, she continued, “I hope I can live up to the image that seems to have preceded me. After all, I’m not all that long out of nursing school and have only cared for a few patients in two separate hospitals thus far, but I am looking forward to this assignment.”
The two ascended the impressive, semi-circular staircase leading to the second floor, and proceeded in a westward direction toward the far end of the walnut paneled corridor, that of whose polished walls in between door frames were lined with striking photographs displaying numerous horses in imposing stances, a few with prominent looking jockeys sitting atop them, each proudly wearing the bluegrass green and cream silks of Landon Lawns Stables. Autumn continued along, but as she did her eyes were strangely drawn to a portrait hanging prominently on the wall opposite the door to her room. It was that of a huge black stallion and straddling him in a rather suggestive manner was a slight built, dark-haired jockey attired in Landon silks, and holding a riding crop high above his head in an arch of victory. His face held an expression as if to say he would not be trifled with, lest those doing so would feel his wrath. His brooding dark eyes secured the onlooker’s attention, boring into the camera lens as if they were smoldering embers threatening to erupt into a raging inferno upon the least amount of fanning.
Melanie opened the driver’s door and slipped into her car. She watched in the rearview mirror as Pru climbed into the back seat. The woman who was almost always wearing flowery clothes was now dressed from top to toe in black. Black tights, black long-sleeved t-shirt, and black knit cap.
“What’s with the knit cap? It’s like 60 degrees out. You’re not sick, are you?” Mel didn’t fancy sitting in a car with someone coughing the entire time.
Pru adjusted her cap to ensure her curly red locks were completely covered. “I thought we were doing a stakeout? I didn’t want my hair to give us away.” She held up the bags she’d brought. “I brought snacks and everything.”
“What kind of snacks?”
Before Pru could answer Mel’s question, Terri butted in. “We’re not doing a stakeout!”
Mel ignored Terri. Of course, they were doing a stakeout. She turned back to Pru. “Seriously, what did you bring? Anything good?”
Terri interrupted her again, “Why are we doing this?”
Mel grunted and turned around and started the car. They fell into silence as they drove the ten minutes to the address Ryder had provided.
Pru handed cups of coffee to Terri and Melanie. “Here. What do we do now?”
Mel took a sip of her coffee before answering, “We wait for something to happen.”
“Like what?”
Mel had no answer. She wasn’t exactly an expert on stakeouts. The previous and only other stakeout she’d been on ended quickly when the bad guys tried to ram their car into hers.
“How do you deal with potty breaks? I’ve got a bladder the size of a pea.”
Terri snickered next to her. “I’m sure we can find a bush for you to squat behind.”
“They never get into these details in books,” Pru grumbled before putting her coffee back into the drink tray without taking a sip.
“Does this have to do with this detective stuff you decided to play around with?”
She shot a dirty look at the wall. “Listen, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it under control.”
“Obviously you don’t. I’m going to the police.”
“Um, no. You can’t call, uh, not yet.”
“Why can’t I?” He came back into the room.
“I can’t explain that.”
“You’d better explain something, because I am calling 9-1-1 right now.” He picked up the phone.
“Stop!” she yelled.
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Why?”
“Listen, just let me call my friend first.”
“Your friend?” It was his turn for sarcasm.
“Yes, my friend.” She snatched the phone from him, grabbed her bag, and went into the bathroom. She fished around until she found the card from Mac and punched in his number on her cell.
“Yup,” Mac answered.
“I have a sticky situation.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I’m at my old place.”
“I’m not here to settle disputes for you and your boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend? What are you talking about, we broke up?” Then it dawned on her. Her address showed she was still living with Rat Bastard.
“Sheagan,” she heard him shout, breaking into her thoughts.
“What!” she shouted back.
He grunted. “What is the situation?”
“The O’Dwyer boys came to visit my ex-boyfriend last night.”
“I’ll be right there. Don’t call the police.”
“I know. I called you.”
“Well, you got something right.” He hung up.
She screamed into the receiver, “You son-of-a-, I’ll give you, ‘you got something right’. You can kiss my butt.”
When she emerged from the bathroom, Rat Bastard cocked his head. “Friend, huh?”
“It’s complicated!” she snapped.
