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Saturday, September 2, 2017
Halloween Carnival Volume 5 Richard Chizmar, Lisa Tuttle, Norman Prentiss, Kevin Quigley, and Peter Straub
Halloween Carnival Volume 4 Kealan Patrick Burke, Ray Garton, Bev Vincent, C. A. Suleiman, and Paul Melniczek
Halloween Carnival Volume 4 is the 4th book in a 5 book series. Each book features 5 short stories written by a different author. These books are pretty short. Only takes a little of an hour to read the whole book. A new book will be released each week of October in 2017. The final book will be released on Halloween.
The stories are scary or creepy. I think they were more creepy then scary. I really enjoyed this book. I liked seeing each of the authors style of writing. I liked all of the stories but if I have to choose a favorite it would be THE HALLOWEEN TREE by Bev Vincent.
I received this book from the Author or Publisher via Netgalley.com to read and review.
Halloween Carnival Volume 3 by Kelley Armstrong, Kate Maruyama, Michael McBride, Taylor Grant and Brian James Freeman
Halloween Carnival Volume 3 is the 3rd book in a 5 book series. Each book features 4 or 5 short stories written by a different author. These books are pretty short. Only takes a little of an hour to read the whole book. A new book will be released each week of October in 2017. The final book will be released on Halloween.
The stories are scary or creepy. I think they were more creepy then scary. I really enjoyed this book. I liked seeing each of the authors style of writing. I liked all of the stories but if I have to choose a favorite it would be LA CALAVERA by Kate Maruyama.
I received this book from the Author or Publisher via Netgalley.com to read and review.
Friday, September 1, 2017
In the Moment by Jennifer Wilck book blitz
In the Moment
Jennifer Wilck
Publication date: September 1st 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance
Cassie Edwards, a former foster child, purchases an 1870s Victorian mansion, the one home from her childhood where she felt like part of a family. She’s spending her summer lovingly restoring it, with dreams of one day raising a family of her own here. Rayne Tucket, a photojournalist, is haunted by the death of his best friend in Afghanistan, a death he thinks is his fault. He survives day to day. Forever is not in his vocabulary. Swearing off photography, he answers an ad for a handyman—mindless, no emotion involved. As the two of them renovate her house, can Cassie show Rayne that love is strong enough to heal all wounds?
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo
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EXCERPT:
The intimate closeness made her stomach flutter. The proximity of their bodies, the rush of the water, and his feathering touch on her lips made her dizzy. She gripped his arms for support. He grasped her waist, staring deep in her eyes.
He was going to kiss her. She knew it. His pupils dilated. Time slowed. The rushing water pounded around her. She opened her mouth, as much to drink in air as to get ready to kiss him back. His eyes narrowed, focused on her lips. She leaned toward him. Their wet bodies pressed against each other. Her breasts tingled, and her stomach heated at the contact. She wanted this to go on forever, but at the same time, she wanted him to hurry up and kiss her so their lips could finally meet. At the last possible second, he pushed away.
She stood there, confused and aching.
“I’m not the staying kind, Cassie.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“A woman like you needs a man who’ll stay forever. My time here has an expiration date.”
She ducked under the water. When she came up, she pushed her hair out of her face. “I know you’re leaving. You don’t have to, though.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a promise to keep.”
“What kind of promise?”
“The unbreakable kind.”
Author Bio:
When I was a little girl and couldn’t fall asleep, my mother would tell me to make up a story. Pretty soon, my head was filled with these stories and the characters that populated them. Each character had a specific personality, a list of likes and dislikes, and sometimes, even a specific accent or dialect. Even as an adult, I think about the characters and stories at night before I fall asleep, or in the car on my way to or from one of my daughters’ numerous activities (hey, anything that will drown out their music is a good thing).
One day, I started writing them down (it was either that or checking into the local mental hospital—the computer was way less scary) and now I'm a published author. My first book, A Heart of Little Faith, was just declared a Finalist in the Fiction: Romance category of the 2016 Best Book Awards.
In the real world, I’m the mother of two amazing daughters and wife of one of the smartest men I know. I enjoy spending time with my family and friends, reading, traveling and watching TV. In between chauffeuring my daughters to after-school activities that require an Excel spreadsheet to be kept straight, I run youth group activities, train the dog we recently adopted from a local shelter, and cook dinners that fit the needs of four very different appetites. I also write freelance articles for magazines, newspapers, and edit newsletters.
When all of that gets overwhelming, I retreat to my computer, where I write stories that let me escape from reality. In my made-up world, the heroines are always smart, sassy and independent. The heroes are handsome and strong with just a touch of vulnerability. If I don’t like a character, I can delete him or her; if something doesn’t work, I can rewrite it. It’s very satisfying to be in control of at least one part of my life. My inspiration comes from watching the people around me and fantasizing about how I’d do things differently.
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Handbook for Mortals by Lani Sarem
wasn’t interrupting something important,” Mac said, with no attempt at feigning
actual sincerity. I could tell he didn’t care that he had interrupted, or that
he had been rude.
I responded. I don’t think he expected my answer to be truthful, and he looked
taken aback. He had probably expected me to say “Oh, no worries! Nothing
important.” He made no comment, but backed off a little. When he continued
talking, he had a bit less snap in his voice.
schedule a crew call for you once your contract has been signed. You, me, and
all of our techs, so we can go over your trick and map out how it will be
safely implemented into the show.” He knew that calling what I had done a
“trick” instead of an illusion I would take as a slight. It’s sort of like
telling someone who had just won an Olympic gold medal and was proudly wearing
it around their neck, that their necklace was cute. Mac kept incessantly
tapping his Sharpie on the side of his clipboard and shifting his weight
between his feet.
slowly and calculated, looking him square in the eye, which probably surprised
him a bit, since he was at least six feet tall. I’ve always enjoyed the luxury
of being a tall girl. I’m five foot nine inches and so while I don’t usually
tower above any guys I know, I can definitely look them directly in the eye.
Most girls who at five feet five inches (which, I believe, is an average height
for a woman) have to look up. My height was an advantage that I never took for
granted and here, again, I was happy that I didn’t have to look up to
him—figuratively or literally. In heels I could even be as tall or taller than
him and I’ve always loved that part about being the height I am. I half smiled
and slowly spoke, “Maybe you misunderstood. I don’t show anyone how it’s done.
That wasn’t just for the audition. I handle this illusion on my own.”
for a moment, and then glanced up from his clipboard, looking irritated. He
pursed his lips and flared his nostrils. The tapping stopped. He dropped the
clipboard from his stomach and held it in his hand while pointing his finger
directly in my face. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who else you worked for, but
we don’t do that Lone Ranger stuff around here. I’m the technical director and
in charge of everyone’s safety, no matter how stupid you want to be. You do
what I say, and I keep your pretty self from getting hurt. Got it?” I’m fairly
certain he growled at me as he spoke.
ran through my head and I’m pretty sure several seconds passed in silence as we
stared each other down. I could feel my hands tightening into fists. I really
did want to punch him. I could see it happening. I’m not strong by any means
but I’m also not a wimp. I wouldn’t have broken anything, but he would have
been bruised and sore. I quickly ran through the possible outcomes of punching
the technical director on my first day of work. It didn’t really seem to be the
best idea.
him so closely that it might have looked like to an outsider that I was about
to kiss him. I huffed a little and my words were slow and deliberate. “I
understand this is your job and all, but I don’t think you’re listening to me,”
I hissed. I tapped his chest with my finger and he jolted a bit at my touch. He
looked at me like I was speaking some kind of foreign language.
listening? Lady, you need your ears cleaned,” he snarled back. He turned around
to walk away, as if that was the end of our conversation. If he was trying to
piss me off more, it was working.
the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and swinging him around to face me. My
face had flushed and I’d raised my voice to a full yell. “And you need to get
some manners. I’m not showing you how it’s done, okay? If we have a problem I
can go to another show where the technical director doesn’t have a God complex.
I’m not a girl who needs a knight in shining armor.” I was practically snarling
at him.
teeth and looked like he might hit me, but I knew that wasn’t really an option
for him. Guys like him didn’t hit women, no matter how mad we made them. He
laughed loudly. “Ha! Good luck finding a Technical Director who will treat you
like the princess you clearly think you are. If I found you locked in a tower,
I promise I’d leave you there.” Mac whipped around again and this time saw
Riley, who had been standing just a few feet away from us the whole time. Riley
was pretending not to be paying too much attention, but you could tell that was
all he had been doing. I couldn’t blame him. Mac glowered at Riley and barked,
“Where’s C.S.? Riley, go find Charles. Now!”
Riley replied with a nervous, almost panicked look on his face as he ran off to
the side and disappeared.
ReWired by S.R. Johannes blitz
ReWired
S.R. Johannes
Publication date: August 27th 2017
Genres: Thriller, Young Adult
YA cyber thriller, ReWIRED, by Shelli Johannes-Wells (writing as S.R. Johannes), which offers a fresh and exciting new take on the genre, and could be described as Ally Carter’s HEIST SOCIETY meets THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO for teens.
Sixteen-year-old Ada Lovelace is never more alive and sure of herself than when she’s hacking into a “secure” network as her alter ego, the Dark Angel. In the real world, Ada is broken, reeling from her best friend Simone’s recent suicide. But online, the reclusive daughter of Senator Lovelace (champion of the new Online Privacy Bill) is a daring white hat hacker and the only female member of the Orwellians, an elite group responsible for a string of high-profile hacks against major corporations, with a mission to protect the little guy. Ada is swiftly proving she’s a force to be reckoned with, when a fellow Orwellian betrays her to the FBI. To protect her father’s career, Ada is sent to ReBoot, a technology rehab facility for teens…the same rehab Simone attended right before killing herself.
It’s bad enough that the ReBoot facility is creepy in an Overlook-Hotel-meets-Winchester-Mansion way, but when Ada realizes Simone’s suicide is just one in an increasingly suspicious string of “accidental” deaths and “suicides” occurring just after kids leave ReBoot, Ada knows she can’t leave without figuring out what really happened to her best friend. The massive cyber conspiracy she uncovers will threaten everything she cares about–her dad’s career, her new relationship with a wry, handsome, reformed hacker who gets under her skin, and most of all–the version of herself Ada likes best–the Dark Angel.
With a deliciously twisty plot, the topical bite of Cory Doctorow’s LITTLE BROTHER, ReWIRED delves into technology addiction, internet privacy, and corporate/government collection of data, as it vividly illuminates the universally human questions about ethics, privacy, and self-definition that both underpin these socio-political issues and dovetail with classic coming-of-age themes. Ultimately, ReWIRED is about the daily choices we all make about who we want to be, how much of ourselves we choose to share with others, and the terrifying risks and exhilarating rewards of being ourselves, online and off.
—
EXCERPT:
Simone never did anything without a reason.
There’s only way to find out what that was. I need to get on a computer. And I know just where to find one. In Ms. Matthews office.
When Ms. Matthews pops in for room check, I pretend to be deathly ill. Getting this lady to believe me isn’t as hard. My fake gagging sounds cleared the room really fast.
After everyone heads to their first activity, I sneak down to the lunchroom and snag the lunch lady’s security card from her register. After some time observing, I know the center uses a standard swipe system, so hopefully this card will gain me access.
I inch down the back hall and stop a few doors down from Ms. Matthews’ office. As soon as the security camera swings away, I run to the door and swipe the card. When the panel beeps, I push open the door and close it behind me. I lean back and breath. So far, so good. I roll the interior blinds shut so no one can see in and eye the bookshelves.
That modem light told me there was a computer in here somewhere.
I just have to find out where Ms. Matthews hides it.
Trolling around the cramped space, I’m careful not to shift anything out of place. Some paranoid people set traps. A moved garbage can, a misplaced pen, or a wrinkled cushion can all shows signs of an intruder. I’d bet all my typing fingers that Ms. Matthews keeps this office extra dusty, hoping to snag a fingerprint or two.
I nose around her desk, looking for a clue, and tug on the top drawer. It’s locked but easily crackable. Using a letter opener, I jimmy the latch until it opens, careful not to leave a scratch. I sift through a few ancient photos of Ms. Matthews and a boy who I assume is her son Patrick, an old pack of hairy gum, and a letter from the bank about some missed payments. I also come across a book of deposit slips. The carbon copies recorded huge amounts. Wow, this place brings in some serious dough. Seattle has way too many computer addicts. I jot down the bank routing number and the account number in my notebook before replacing the slips.
Sitting in her chair, I twirl, taking in the view from every angle. When I spot the paneled wall, I stand and knock. Sounds hollow. The perfect place to hide a computer.
Or a body.
There’s no door handle, but there is a keypad. The kind that usually has an open button for convenience or in case of forgotten codes. I go back to the desk and slide my hand around the drawer past broken pencils, dust bunnies, and lonely paper clips. In the very back, my finger grazes a small lever. The paneled wall slides back, revealing a hidden room.
Open Sesame!
I pull on the light cord and step into the damp space reeking of mothballs and mold. I squint in the dim light. Filing cabinets and stacks of cardboard boxes labeled with black marker crowd the tiny room. Jim. Sandi. Michelle. No names I recognize.
Unfortunately, there appears to be no order to this lady’s stacking madness. I rummage through some old files until one folder catches my eye: CONSTRUCTION PLANS. There, I discover archives of the mansion’s floor plans, including past building additions and blueprints. The schematics show me the enormity of this old place.
I shove a few in my back pocket. I case they come in handy later.
Something hums a familiar song, grabbing my attention. I spin around and spot an old school desk in the corner. Sitting on top is the prettiest sight I’ve seen since checking out of reality and into CrazyLand.
A computer.
And not just any machine. A state-of-the-art HP PC injected with a speedy processor. Matthews may pretend to live in the 1800s, but she’s more tech-savvy than she lets on. Not to mention, a total hypocrite.
“Hello, beautiful,” I whisper. The stress of the last few days dissipates.
The Dark Angel is back.
Author Bio:
S.R. Johannes is the award-winning author of the Amazon bestselling Nature of Grace thriller series (Untraceable, Uncontrollable, and Unstoppable). She is a winner of the IndieReader Discovery Award in YA, an IPPY a Silver Medalist for YA Fiction, a Finalist in The Kindle Book Review’s Best Young Adult Fiction, and a Finalist in US Book News Best YA Book.
Since leaving Corporate America, she has followed her passion for writing and conservation by working with The Dolphin Project, the Atlanta Zoo, other animal rescue organizations, and by weaving conservation themes into her books.Currently, she lives in Atlanta, GA with hEnglish-accented husband and the huge imaginations of their prince and princess, which she hopes- someday- will change the world.
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