Monday, 28 September 2020

Moon in Bastet

MAGICAL REALISM, JEWISH FICTION

Date Published: SEPTEMBER 29TH, 2020

Publisher: HURN PUBLICATIONS


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A memoir turned into thrilling fiction; Moon in Bastet is based on the life of author E. S. Danon. The story follows a fourteen-year-old girl named Eva, an orphan living in the Negev desert of Israel who is working as a custodian of Cirque Du Christianisme. Her life is controlled by a volatile drunk named Bella who favors a group of equally volatile teenage bullies over her and her own safety or sanity.

Bullied, neglected, and alone – Eva’s only friends are an odd, thirteen–year–old Sephardic boy named Jack and a small cohort of Bedouin sister-wives. On the brink of giving up on life, Eva stumbles upon a mysterious cat in the middle of the desert. Or really, did the cat stumble upon her?

Together they must fight to stay alive, win the battles thrown at them, and Eva must learn to not only lean on others but to trust in herself.

 

Filled with mystery, magic, and symbolism – Moon in Bastet is a story of resilience, survivorship, forgiveness, and women empowerment. This is a work filled with Jewish mysticism that can be enjoyed by people of all races, ages, and religions everywhere.

 


About the Author

Elizabeth Danon received her B.S. in Marine Science from Stony Brook University before working as a Marine Biologist for the National Marine Fisheries Service. She traveled the U.S. Eastern Seaboard and Gulf of Mexico: collecting data aboard commercial fishing vessels and dredges.

When that didn’t pan out to be the glorified job that she expected, finding herself covered in shark snot and fish scales daily, Elizabeth became a technical writer. In her spare time, she began doing standup comedy after taking comedy bootcamp with the Armed Services Arts Partnership. At this time, she married the most wonderful man who also provides most of her joke writing material. Unfortunately, because he’s Indian he has also enabled her Maggi addiction… Like she needed that on top of her already long-standing iced coffee issues.

Her favorite show is Schitt’s Creek, as she feels a special bond to her fellow comedians – and Sephardic brethren. Growing up half-Jewish herself, Elizabeth eventually converted to being full-Jewish with Temple Israel as a student of Rabbi Panitz.

Her enriched, but complicated, heritage has been an inspiration for most of her creative writing. Being an Aries, she has always felt like a leader and has therefore integrated her feminist beliefs into her work, albeit dropping every women’s studies course that she ever elected in college. Additionally, her writing has an unmistakable international presence. Elizabeth wanted to discover as much as she could about her Sephardic Heritage and went on Birthright, followed by her independent travels to over ten other countries… carrying nothing but a red bookbag.

 

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Tuesday, 22 September 2020

Round of Applause

 


Strawberry Shifters Book 2: Round of Applause

Paranormal Romance

Date Published: 11/2020

Aurora Turner embarks on a post-graduate adventure to find her forever family only to be captured by the Sluagh, soul-sucking Fae exiles. While she is grateful to be rescued by the Strawberry shifters, her Prince Not-So-Charming is a little hasty when he starts picking out their wedding china.

Destiny gives James Martin a second chance at love. Aurora may prove to be more of a hazard to herself than the Sluagh ever were. He has the daunting task of keeping her away from sharp objects, and from ogling his best friend, Nate.

Nate Wagner is shocked when Aurora passes the prophesized shifter smell test identifying her as his mate. The beta male competes against the mature courtship skills of James with his own modern twist.

However, will his devotion to James keep her out of his arms or will they create their perfect family—one they never dreamed of?

 

          

About the Author

Marilyn Barr currently resides in the wilds of Kentucky with her husband, son, and rescue cats. When engaging with the real world, she is collecting characters, empty coffee cups, and unused homeschool curricula.  Join her mailing list at www.marilynbarr.com/contact/ to receive her monthly newsletter, the Strawberry Rumor Mill, to hear the latest news from Strawberry KY, USA.


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Sunday, 20 September 2020

Two for the Road


An Adam Fraley Mystery

Mystery, Crime Mystery

Published: September 2020

Publisher: Melange Books

 

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Private investigator Adam Fraley and his colleague, Tamra Fugit, the woman to whom he is engaged, travel vastly different paths, as they take on two seemingly unrelated missing person cases. The trails take them through idyllic lands darkened by underworld intrigue, twisted relationships. carnal temptation, physical danger, and personal tragedy. Such are the legal ramifications they confront during their crossing of both state and international boundaries, that the FBI is eventually drawn into the matter. From the very beginning, little did the investigators realize that the two roads they were travelling eventually would come crashing together in a manner entirely unexpected, testing not only their professional skills and resolve, but their personal faith in each other.

  

Excerpt

 

Chapter One

April 1997

 

The paramount lesson Adam Fraley learned early on in the private investigation business was to place a premium on case selection. Much like personnel hiring, you want to make sure you take on the right case, just as you would the right person, lest you end up drowned in disappointment and endless damage control. Fortunately, he had thus far successfully managed this aspect of the business. First, by hiring Tamra Fugit several years ago as his office manager. Secondly, by relying on her knack for making the right choices. Still, no selection system was foolproof. As an old boss of his was fond of saying, “You can only ride horses so many times before you get bucked off one.” Consequently, the admonition was always in the back of his mind when he and she met for their regular Monday morning caseload review.

“What’s on the agenda?” he asked from a visitor’s chair positioned in front of her desk.

“Two cases—one for you and one for me,” she said, working her desktop computer.

He halted in mid-motion the sip of coffee he was about to take to look askance at her.

She swiveled her chair to face him. “I’ve assisted you in nearly every case we’ve taken on since I was hired here, Adam. And thanks to your generosity, I will soon own half of the business. No better time for me to start taking half ownership of some of the cases, don’t you agree?”

“By ownership you mean taking to the street—the actual gumshoe part.”

“Yes...surveillance and tracking.”

“Who’s going to take care of the office end of it while we’re out gumshoeing?” he asked, carefully setting his coffee cup on her desk.

“Think of it this way,” she replied. “As with the modern family, the mother sometimes stays home to tend to the house and kids while the father is at work. Conversely, the husband stays home while the working wife takes to the road. We are destined to become a family business, are we not?”

“You’re looking terrific today,” he abruptly said to the woman who would have to be subjected to prolonged physical duress, say like an extended hike through the Mohave desert, to look bad---the woman, by the way, he happened to be betrothed to. But for her presence, the Adam Fraley Private Investigations office could best be described as nondescript, he opined.

“Do you realize your auburn hair, beautiful green eyes, and bright yellow dress offset very well the dull cast of this office?” he continued.

“You’re digressing,” she said. “Or are you stalling?”

“Okay, what are the two?” he asked in resignation.

“The first is for you,” she said, sorting through some notes on her desk. “I received a call from a woman by the name of Carmen Rivera. She was calling from Bogota, Colombia, where she lives. She has a son by the name of Manny who is attending Coastal State College here. She and her husband have not heard from Manny in over a month. Normally, he checks in with them at least once or twice a week. He lives in an off-campus home which he shares with another student who, for whatever reason, claims no knowledge of his whereabouts.”

“She’s contacted the cops?”

“Yes, and received the standard reply. Since he is an adult and there is no evidence of foul play, they will not get involved at this point.”

“We should send the department a thank you note, considering how much business that policy of theirs generates for us. You have the address for the kid?”

She again scrambled through the notes on her desk, picked one out and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

“Before we get started, how are we handling the fees? It’s not like we have a history of job requests from overseas on which to draw from. In fact, we have no history of it…right?”

“Correct,” she said. “However, if we do take the case, she will wire us a down payment upfront with the remainder to follow once we have concluded our investigation.”

“What do you think?” he asked. “Legitimate?”

“She spoke in a very cultured voice and with a mother’s concern. My sense is the Rivera family could very well be one of the five percent of the populace who control the wealth of the country.”

“Five percent…is that a fact or your opinion?”

“It comes from a former roommate of mine who spent a half year in the country.”

“Doing what?”

“Studying the Colombia rainforest region.”

“For what?”

“Six course credits,” she cracked. “She was in a study abroad program.”

“Well, it’s not likely we’re going to break the parents financially,” he said. “And the second case---the one you’ve put a claim to?”

Tamra glanced at another note on her desk. “I received a call from a man named Mickey Riley. He says his sister went missing about four weeks ago. He wants us to find her.”

“Let me guess…the cops don’t want to get involved because she is an adult and there is no evidence of foul play.”

“You got it.”

“So, does Mickey have any idea where his sister might be?”

“With her husband somewhere, he says.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Adam asked, no doubt repeating the same question the cops asked the brother.

“According to Mickey, the husband, himself, is a bad thing…a very bad thing. Apparently, his sister has become a virtual prisoner of her husband, to the point he won’t even let her out of the house. A control freak, to say the least.”

“So, you aim to free her?”

“I aim to find her. It’s up to the brother to free her. He’s coming in for a meeting this afternoon. I should know more then, including where would be a good place to start looking for her. Meanwhile, your mother called. She’d like to know if we want a wedding planner. If so, she knows of a good one.”

“We’ve already decided we don’t need one, don’t you remember?”

“I certainly do, but apparently you failed to pass that bit of info along to her.”

“I’ll tell her when we finish with these two cases,” he sighed, perturbed by his oversight.

“You know, this will be a good time to go on the road,” he followed. “Noelle will be on her school-sponsored camping trip. We should be home by the time she returns.”

“If all goes well,” Tamra responded with a deadpan expression.

Adam leaned across the desk. “I have a proposition for you. How about we flip the cases? You trail after the missing student and I chase after the missing sister? You know how volatile these simmering domestic situations can get. They’re invariably about some demented guy’s passion to control another, usually a helpless woman, like the one you describe in this case. The moment you show up, you become a threat to take away that control. Needless to say, he’s not going to like that at all.”

“Are you worried for my safety? Would you rather I go chasing after porch poachers…sit in the car for hours on end waiting for a home delivery to be stolen? We still have one of those requests on the back burner waiting for a decision.”

“No, I’m not worried for your safety. It’s the safety of the captive wife’s husband, I’m worried about,” he joshed, rising from his chair to give her a quick kiss, followed by a longer one, before heading out of the office. “Before you leave, I have two other items to run by you,” she said, halting his movement.

“Okay…the first?”

 

“Harold Jenkins, the attorney from The Justice Brigade called. He wants to know if you’d like to meet with him regarding the merger idea that he discussed with you over the phone a while back.”

Adam slipped back into the chair, indicating it was a subject requiring immediate attention. “What do you think?” he asked of her.

Tamra gave a slight shrug. “I remember you mentioned the idea at the time. Run it by me again.”

“They’re interested in bringing us into their fold via some sort of a partnership, whether it be a corporate takeover, merger, or retainer-type arrangement. Whatever it takes to get us on board.”

“A big operation like theirs? What for?”

“Law firms have a need for tracking missing persons or conducting background checks, as you well know...”

“Yes, we’ve conducted several for them recently,” she interjected.

“Right, and apparently they liked the results. The Justice Brigade is one of those young, aggressive, fast-growing firms looking to gain a leg up on their competition. It’s not like they don’t have many law firms to compete with.”

Tamra flashed a look of surprise. “By doing their own detective work?”

“My guess is they’re planning to become a one-stop shopping operation, so to speak.”

“What’s in it for us?”

“Well, it could mean a steady work flow, which is no small matter. Looking down the road a way, there’s Noelle’s college tuition costs looming on the horizon. Right now, we’re operating at a small profit margin, enough to keep us afloat for the time being. However, as you and I have discussed, we’ve reached the stage where we’re either going to have to raise production or raise prices. I have a hunch joining forces with the Justice Brigade would lessen our office management burden significantly. Taking on the bulk of our paperwork would be an insignificant addition to their overall workload. Doing so would allow us to concentrate on the detective work.”

“You’re making it sound like—what do they call it in the business world—a white knight coming to the rescue. I don’t see it as magnanimous move on their part, Adam. They are simply making a business pitch.”

“Oh, I agree, but at the moment we’re discussing potential benefits, not the drawbacks. Jenkins also pointed out we would be working under their legal umbrella.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning they would provide us free legal service, both personal and professional. And depending on the business arrangement, perhaps even corporate benefits, like retirement plans, something foreign to us.”

“Adam, we may be gaining corporate benefits, but would we not be losing our corporate identity?”

“That’s going to depend on the details of the proposed agreement. The question is how much independence we would be surrendering, starting with the case selection process. Who is going to have the final say on which ones we take on?”

“I do see one potential benefit in that regard,” Tamra opined. “They could serve as a filter to the possible legal landmines of each case. There are always those we have to consider.”

“True, but then there are other issues—potential conflicts of interest, the need to report to a supervisor, how it may affect the positive relationship we’ve developed with local law enforcement officials over the years—not to mention the more logistical items like office location. No question, there would be details galore to be worked out. Perhaps not so many if it was a retainer-type agreement, which could suffice, for all we know.”

“Something along the lines of a rental car company operating in the maintenance section of a car dealership,” Tamra suggested. “Have you consulted with your old boss on this?”

“Pete? No, though I definitely intend to before any final decision is made.”

Adam was already having second thoughts on the proposed relationship, particularly its impact on the freedom of choice regarding the case selection guidelines. Currently, the procedure was greatly influenced by their location. They were operating out of a street-level office situated on the corner of a moderately busy street. Walk-in traffic was steady—granted, not always a good thing for a P.I. outfit. It led to a significant amount of “impulse buying,” which was not in tune with most of the trade’s target base. Passersby would spot the store sign and on the spur of the moment decide they would rid themselves of lingering suspicions that their spouses were cheating on them, or an employee of theirs had his or her hand in the till, or they wanted their outdoor cat trailed so they could find out where it was spending the day. Following one walk-in guy’s request that they conduct a background check on his neighbor whom he suspected was a mass murderer, he joked to Tamra that they should post a sign on the front entrance stating We don’t do serial killers. It was one of the reasons a growing number of private investigators were forsaking the brick-and-mortar store for the home office where there was less chance of the delusional individual wandering in off the street to seek their assistance. In a home-based operation it was much easier to concentrate on corporate clients who were interested in tackling problems like insurance fraud or employee theft. That’s where the money was.

Yet, despite all the challenges posed by the walk-in trade, it did offer what Adam considered the most rewarding aspect of the profession—the opportunity to fix a family for the man or woman in the street. Tamra had picked up on this preference of his early on and had developed the skills to take on cases based on the attributes of clients, more so than the task involved, a distinction that greatly reduced the possibility of subsequent regret.

“In selecting clients, you want to pick someone whose side you wish to be on,” he had advised her. “There are no honeymoon, probation, or engagement periods with clients. Therefore, you want to be on the same page with them from day one. Lawyers may look at it differently, giving greater consideration to the case.”

Her earlier mention of a white knight potentially acting as a filter for the business brought him an inward smile, for there was no better filter than her in screening out the nightmare client.

“Maybe these two cases we’re taking on simultaneously will give us an indication of how raising the production end of the operation impacts us...office-wise and field-wise,” Tamra continued.

Adam glanced at the wall clock. “Maybe so...now, what was the second item you wanted to bring up before I head off?” he asked, hurrying her along.

“I received my first subpoena.”

“Relating to Adam Fraley Private Investigations, I assume.”

“Yes.”

“Another good reason to join The Justice Brigade,” he quipped. “Seriously, you are to be congratulated. I’m surprised it took this long. In this business you come to expect them. What does it pertain to?”

“Do you recall those background checks I conducted for the Midtown Mall security people for that job opening they had a few months back?”

“Sure do.”

“One of the applicants is suing, claiming she lost out to a far less qualified candidate. I’m not sure why they want my testimony.”

“Which side are you testifying for?”

“The security firm...any tips?”

“Stick to the facts of the background checks and be very careful with your opinions. I had a similar case not long after I first got into this business. I conducted background checks on a group of applicants for an upper level position in a banking firm. As in your case, one of the applicants sued for being bypassed for what she called a less qualified candidate. The bank felt they had a solid case and, in my opinion, they did. In the court testimony, however, one of the bank’s personnel managers on the hiring panel stupidly commented on the witness stand that he considered the plaintiff a dullard. When the judge’s final ruling came down in favor of the plaintiff, the word ‘dullard’ appeared five times in the written decision. He cited it as an example of a preconceived bias. As a result, the plaintiff ended up getting the job and the careless personnel manager wound up without one. He was fired.”

“I’ll be sure to watch my language,” Tamra declared.

“When’s the court date? It’s not going to interfere with present business, is it?”

“No, it’s a month away.”

“You’re fortunate, though I should say we’re fortunate. Often those subpoenas are served hours in advance,” he said. “Nothing like having a monkey wrench thrown into your regular workday plans before you even get started on them.”

Adam paused a moment, reflecting on Tamra’s proposal about who would handle which assignment. Both cases could present dangerous circumstances, he knew from previous experience, so trading cases based on the facts as presently known could be premature.

“Tamra, I’m not comfortable leaving you in charge of a domestic case that could go awry,” he said.

“The future is always unclear, no matter what type of case we take on,” she countered.

“This is the nature of the business we’re in.”

“Then promise me that you’ll fill me in the moment your intuition tells you that you’re in over your head.”

“You’ll be the first to know, she said, gathering her notes. “With that in mind, we best hit the road.”



About the Author

Henry Hoffman is a former newspaper editor and public library manager. He is the author of the Adam Fraley Mystery Series and is the recipient of the Florida Publishers Association's Gold Medal Award for Florida Fiction.

 

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Friday, 18 September 2020

Anamika Khanna Falls in Love

 


About the Book:


How far would you go in love?

A few missed calls? Liking every post of his on FB? Landing in the hospital when you fall from a tree because you wanted to see into his room?
Anamika Khanna is madly in love with Rahul…
How can someone be so blind? Why can’t she see how much I love her? Will my confession jeopardise our friendship?
Vikram Lobo, the bookworm has developed muscles and lost the soda bottle glass-es. But he can’t stop his heart from skipping a beat when he sees Anamika.
Rahul, the high society Adonis wants nothing to do with the gauche, middle class weirdo who’s following him around. Until she moves into his league…
Laugh out loud at Anamika’s antics and follow her on the roller coaster that is her life!


Book Links:
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Meet Vikram Lobo


If you had a free day with no responsibilities and your only mission was to enjoy yourself, what would you do?

I’d choose to be with Anu. She’s the sun and the stars and the reason for my heart to keep pumping. We’d probably go to Coffee Day - I’d have an espresso and she would order a frappe. And of course, she would realise she’s broke and I’d pay and she’d try to calculate how much this amount plus all the frappes of the past would total to!

If you could spend the day with someone you admire (living or dead or imaginary), who would you pick?

I would spend the day with Alistair MacLean - the writer. He’d teach me how to research a book and how he turns simple sentences into stories that come to life before your eyes. And He’d tell me about his Marie - the one in all his books!

What is your idea of perfect happiness? And, what is your current state of mind?

I would be the happiest man in the world if Anu realises Rahul is a stuck up ass and forgets her stupid infatuation.
Right now, I’m wondering why she can’t see the love shining in my eyes? She’s such a beautiful,   fiery, crazy girl - I just can’t stop loving her. I try to chat with other girls and respond to their flirting, but my heart just isn’t in it.

What do you consider to be the most overrated virtue and why?

Honesty is overrated. If I tell Anu how much I love her, she’ll stop being my friend. It’s better to lie than risk not having her in my life. Also if I tell her what a dirtbag Rahul really is, she’d never believe me. In her eyes, he can do no wrong and I’m just not being supportive.

Tell us 3 things about yourself that the readers do not know about

- I also stalked Rahul once just to see if I was taller than him - and I am! Take that, you arrogant Richie Rich!
- I’m even ready to join Dad in his sanitary ware shop if that means I can have a steady income to support Anu.
- I’ve begun writing a romance novel (under a pseudonym, of course!) - a far cry from the violent detective stories I always write. 



About the Author:

Words have been the centre of Shraddha’s existence for as long as she can re-member. Fed up with her constant demand for books, her parents asked her to write her own. And so, it began!

She’s an ophthalmologist with a specialisation in Glaucoma. She juggles her profes-sional demands with her new label of tennis mom and the larger than life charac-ters that live in her mind, demanding to be manifested.

She has written A Doctor in the House (Partridge), A Great Fall (Juggernaut) and The Case of the Counterfeit Currency (Mango Books) and also has an anthology of poems (F.I.S.T) (Pothi Books)

Shraddha finds herself attracted to stories about women – strong ones, funny ones & kick ass survivors. Her self-deprecating humor tends to stay with you long after you’ve shut the book.


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The Vicar's Daughter by Blair Bancroft


Gothic Regency Romance

Released: August 2020

Publisher: Kone Enterprises


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Independent and capable Prudence Wedderburn, daughter of a vicar, is a woman before her time. She not only manages the parish duties usually performed by a vicar's wife, she has learned the art of healing, and during her father's final illness, she also assumes some of his religious duties—all actions welcomed by her village until her father's death abruptly ends her life as First Lady of Kenner's Cove, Kent.

Well aware she must curb her independence—even learn to practice subservience, a quality entirely unknown to her—Prudence accepts a position as governess to a five-year-old girl in Cornwall. Where, alas, rumors of her activities in Kent plunge her into difficulties with the church, she clashes with her pupil's father (an earl), finds herself hip-deep in smugglers and Cornish legends, is befriended by a 500-year-old cat, and discovers that someone—several someones?—want to kill her. Finding a happy ending in a deluge of disasters will be the vicar's daughter's greatest challenge.


 

 


 

About the Author

My mother was a highly successful author of children's books, and for many years it never occurred to me it was possible to have two authors in the same family. I pursued a career in music, as teacher and performer, touring in the first National Company of The Sound of Music. But only when my children were off to college did I seriously consider trying my own hand at writing. And discovered I loved it. To be able to create people, even whole worlds from the imagination is a never-ending joy.

I was fortunate enough to win a number of writing awards, but after nine print books, in 2011 I plunged into the world of e-books and never looked back. It offers a level of creative freedom not to be found anywhere else. As Blair Bancroft, I have become best known for books set in the Regency period (early 19th c.)—Regency Gothics, Regency Historicals, Traditional Regencies, and a series that reveals the darker side of the Regency era (The Aphrodite Academy). I also write SciFi/Fantasy/Paranormal, Romantic Suspense, and Mystery, with a Medieval Young Adult and a Steampunk thrown in for good measure. (I do enjoy experimenting with new genres.)

I now have more than forty books available through online vendors, including a non-fiction compilation of all the Writing and Editing tips posted to my blog since 2011 (Making Magic with Words).

I am an outspoken advocate of "out of the mist" writing. One of my favorite sayings: I can hardly wait to sit down to my computer each morning and find out what my characters are going to do today.

 

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Thursday, 17 September 2020

The White Field by Douglas Cole

 

Crime Fiction, Urban Fiction, Noir, Drama

Release Date: September 18, 2020

Publisher: TouchPoint Press


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The White Field is a fast-paced journey of a man, Tom, fresh out of prison and trying desperately to rebuild his life. But he is caught by mysterious, unseen forces beyond his knowledge or control. After his release from prison, he is dropped back into the world in the wastelands of the city. In the menial work afforded the underclass, he begins his new life among characters at the edges of society, dwellers of the netherworld such as Raphael, a former cop from Mexicali singing Spanish arias in the mists of the industrial night among drug addicts and crooked cops; Tony, a stoner scholar with an encyclopedic knowledge of history based solely on the intricate study of rock and roll; and Larry, the bloated, abusive manager trapped as much as his workers in a world of tedium and repetition and machines. Think, The Three Stooges on acid. Unable to reconnect with what’s left of his family, Tom embarks on a criminal path more harrowing than the one that led him to prison in the first place. Lured in by the nefarious, Thane, he slips into a plan that will leave him with no way back. And with no place left in this world to go but prison, he makes one last run for freedom. Will he escape?

 

Praise for The White Field:

 

“The White Field is a rabid yet tender odyssey into the oscillating abyss of an ex- convict degenerating into redemption. Cole writes with haunting splendor, illuminating the dreams of the doomed.” —Matthew Dexter, author of The Ritalin Orgy

 

“Author Douglas Cole’s breakneck prose places us squarely in the hectic mind of a man influenced from all sides, seeking a life free from fear. The result is a stunning narrative that is simultaneously frightening and familiar.” —Kerri Farrell Foley, Managing Editor Crack The Spine.


 

 

 Excerpt

 

I walked into the sun. It seared the road and the rooftops, intense, blinding. I went up Eighty-Eighth Street through the homes and the old elms with their heavy summer growth and darkness along their limbs, light strobing through the shadows. I knew someone might recognize me. They might even call the police. But I couldn’t resist. I was free, now. Nobody could touch me.

Only those who cared, and by now there were none, would have known my release date. My wife may have known. At one time, I imagined her writing it on a wall calendar, marking off each day leading up to it with a big, black X. But I knew I’d fallen far from her thoughts.

I couldn’t be sure of my children, though. They were so young when I went in they could have forgotten all about me. My wife had remarried. Very likely they called her new husband daddy. Very likely, they thought he was. Events had erased me. After all, I’d made no contact. And while I had no idea what my wife might have told them, unless she’d changed in ways I couldn’t foresee, I knew she’d tell them the truth if they asked and say nothing if they didn’t. At worst, they believed I was dead.

And that life seemed like something unreal. There were no traces of it around here. But my sense of time was way off. From counting, literally, minutes as they passed, I went into a vast timeless trancezone where whole years vanished. In the midst of this, I reemerged from time to time to peer into my little cell of life with seconds hanging like drops of water on a window ledge and refusing to fall. But now, walking this street, I was the last person anyone around here was expecting to see.

So, as I went up Eighty-Eighth to the old house, I had this strange feeling that I was invisible. In the dusk light, I saw the windows of the houses blazing. Commuters on their way home shot by and curved around the meridians in the intersections, their faces steel traps that snapped and flashed mirror eyes and grim lips and frenzy, frenzy for home, motion so fast they blurred into tracer ribbons. And the sun only cloaked me that much more. Even my shadow was a rail.

And I heard it, that high tension ping, like my own past ringing from the driveway and those days when I was a kid, too, playing into evening as our faces disappeared in the darkness with only the square of the backboard above and the black sphere of the ball and the heat and breath of the other players around me. Then I saw them, three boys playing basketball in the driveway. One was a tall gangly kid with long black hair and ripped jeans and a T-shirt with the word ENEMY printed on it. Another kid stood beside him, but the light made it hard to see his features. Then, the ball landed on the rim, bounced up, arced over to the other side of the rim, hung there suspended in the net for a moment and then dropped through. The third boy stood back from his shot with his hands on his hips, breathing hard, turning his head slowly as I saw, I swear, my own face there in front of me.

With a brow of concentration like a hawk’s predatory gaze, he looked at me as our eyes locked for an eternal moment that I thought carried some recognition, but the moment changed before I could read it.

Then, I was passing on, and my son returned to his game.


About the Author

Douglas Cole has published six collections of poetry, a novella and has a novel, The White Field, coming out in September with Touchpoint Press. His work has appeared in several anthologies as well as The Chicago Quarterly Review, The Galway Review, Bitter Oleander, Louisiana Literature and Slipstream. He has been nominated twice for a Pushcart and Best of the Net and received the Leslie Hunt Memorial Prize in Poetry. He lives and teaches in Seattle. His website is https://douglastcole.com/.

 

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Wednesday, 16 September 2020

Conversations With the Past


 How to Let Go of the Past, Redefine Your Present, and Create a Positive Future

Non Fiction / Self-help

Date Published: Sept 17

Publisher: Rainbow Ridge


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There are no accidents in this life—and the more aware we become, the more we’re able discover the patterns that challenge, elevate, and enlighten us. In "Conversations with the Past," Dr. Aura Imbarus delves into many of the profound experiences she’s had over the years—from emotional breakdowns to spiritually elevated states—in order to help people discover and understand their own purpose in life. Through this exploration, we will all be inspired to examine our own lives and take the necessary steps to enhance our happiness and well-being.

Emotional, physical, and spiritual experiences are all part of the intricate, interwoven tapestry of existence. And though it may sometimes feel like finding our life’s purpose is difficult and elusive, Dr. Imbarus demonstrates how it can, and will, be revealed to the curious mind and willing hear.

 

 About the Author

Dr. Aura Imbarus is an awarded educator, freelance journalist, motivational speaker, and author of the critically acclaimed Amazon best-seller and Pulitzer Prize entry, Out of the Transylvania Night: A Story of Tyranny, Freedom, Love and Identity (Bettie Youngs Books, 2010), a memoir detailing her life in Romania during the Communist regime and an upcoming self-help book, Conversations with the Past: A Journey Home (Rainbow Ridge Books, August 2020).

She is also the President and Founder of See Beyond Media, a company focusing on adolescents’ challenges in the 21st century, having as its launching platform See Beyond Magazine (www.seebeyondmag.com).  See Beyond Media also offers life coaching and author coaching (www.seebeyondmedia.com).

Dr. Imbarus has a BA in Foreign Languages; MA in American and British Studies and a PhD in World Humanities. Since 1998, she has been teaching high school and college level classes in So. Cal. Dr. Imbarus is a licensed hypnotherapist, having trained with Dr. Brian Weiss and Dr. Wanita Holmes.

She was featured on NBC, ABC, CNBC, Good Morning San Diego, Forbes Romania, etc.

In 2019, she received President’s Volunteer Service Award signed by President Donald Trump.

Aura Imbarus is the President and Co-Founder of RAPN – Romanian American Professional Network and one of the founding members of RACC – Romanian-American Chamber of Commerce, Los Angeles Chapter. She sits on the Advisory Council of CA Ballet, is a member of Royal Society of St. George, SACC – Swiss-American Chamber of Commerce. She was a mentor for Scott L. Schwartz Children’s Foundation, a non-profit and professional organization whose mission is to help children with disabilities, and she sat on the Board of Wesley Foundation UCLA and Blue Heron Foundation.

She writes for Palos Verdes Pulse, The Global Woman Magazine (London); Elephant Journal, Beverly Hills Times Magazine, The Immigrant, Hermannstader Zeitung in Transylvania and also works as a freelance journalist for Entertainment and Sports Today.

In her free time she likes to go dancing, hiking, skiing, yoga, gym, sailing; she loves traveling.


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RABT Book Tours & PR

Monday, 14 September 2020

My Heart's Regret


About the Book:
Samaira Reddy, the girl in the big house, the Bade Sahib's daughter, only wants one thing and one person...a life with her childhood sweetheart, her Rags.

Raghav Cherukuri has always been known as the driver's son. And has also always loved his Sam, the girl he can never have and never forget. And so, he leaves her and his life in Hyderabad behind.
But now, Raghav is back. A Chief Officer in the Merchant Navy, he is the success he’s always wanted to be. And yet, he has failed.
Samaira is meeting the ‘perfect groom’ her family approves of…A man whom Raghav can never be.

Can it finally be their time to be together? Or has their happy-ever-after passed them by?

This novella was previously part of the anthology Something Old Something New.


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Read an Excerpt from My Heart's Regret:



“So, where does that leave us?” she asked.
“Nowhere, Sam,” he exhaled. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Bullshit.” Anger, hurt, frustration, a whole gamut of furious emotion swept through her. She turned to him and balled her hands in his shirt, yanking him forward. “You have no business giving up on us, this way. You have to give us a chance.”
“Sam,” His voice was gentle and so were his hands as they pried hers from his chest. He cupped the back of her head and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “We never had a chance. Our families would never accept this. I’m your driver’s son, for God’s sake.”
“You’re the man I love.” With a low groan, she grabbed his face and kissed him. 
Raghav froze in her arms.
She poured years of pent up emotion into the kiss and the bloody statue she loved so much still didn’t respond. Humiliated tears pricked her eyes as she wrenched herself out of his arms and stood. There was nothing left to do but accept defeat. Raghav may love her but he didn’t want her in his life. 
Sam forced herself to turn her back on him and walk away.
She’d made it a bare two feet before she was grabbed from behind. He pulled her flush against him, her back to his chest and buried his face in her hair. It took her a moment to realize his tortured breathing and harsh gasps were not desire but tears. 
He was crying. Slow, silent tears that wet her hair and soaked through her shirt.
Her heart breaking, Sam turned and wrapped him in her arms. They held each other, fierce and unyielding, the past and present swirling together to form a protective cocoon around them.
“God help me,” His tortured whisper destroyed her. “But it kills me to let you go.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered back. “Please, Raghav.” 
He kissed her then. His lips melting against hers with a mix of passion, fury and need. A dam burst inside her and Sam rose to meet his kiss with all the love and desire bursting through her. 
Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Soft, mewling sounds escaped her.  He swallowed them as he tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. 
His hand crept up and clasped the soft mound of her breast, just as a distant sound shattered the moment and its poor illusion of privacy. 
They pulled apart, chests heaving, the sound of their harsh breaths mingling and spreading until it felt like that was all she could hear. 
In the distance, his mother appeared on the verandah outside their room. She waved to him frantically, screaming at the top of her voice.
“Raghav, come fast.” Her panicked shout had him running even before she was done. 
Samaira closed her eyes in despair. This nightmare of an evening wasn’t over yet.



About the Author:



Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.
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