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Sunday, August 5, 2018

The Summer Sisters Trilogy by by Teresa Keefer


Blessed
Be
The
Summer Sisters Book 1
by
Teresa Keefer


Genre:
Paranormal Romance

Alana
Summers was quite content with her life. A peaceful farm tucked in a
wooded area by the lake with her pets for company. A shop in the
small tourist town where she sells a potpourri of items that reflect
everything about her. She's at peace. She's Wiccan.



Logan
Farmer is the local sheriff. Small town boy who went to the big city
and joined the police force. Then he came home where he belonged. He
is deeply rooted in his Native American heritage.

Both
had grown up knowing that there was more to the world that could be
explained or seen. But neither of them knew that their peaceful lives
could be disrupted in an instant by a legend long buried. A tale that
had been told to them by Logan's grandmother when they were young
along with a warning that the ancient legend could replay during
their lifetime.

But
was it really an ancient paranormal evil come to roost or were the
recent events merely the doings of a warped human mind? Or had the
human's events shaped the return of the evil?






Excerpt:

Chapter 1
Alana sat gazing into the fire she built earlier in the day to drive off the chill from the rain that fell steadily down and battered against the tin roof of her little cabin.  Normally, she would have enjoyed the music created by the rain. It was normally a soothing sound to her. But tonight, something kept sending chills up her spine as if in warning of some impending crisis.  She shivered then, as the chill became more pronounced when she thought about it. Pulling the heavy crocheted afghan around her more tightly, she scooted her chair closer to the fire and rested her feet on the thick, tri-colored fur of her mixed breed dog, Buddy. The big animal was laying on the rag rug by the hearth.  He snorted in his sleep and rolled on his back to expose his belly. Part bloodhound, part St. Bernard, and part God only knew what, he still played like a puppy even though he was nearing six years old this winter.
“You’re such a silly dog, you even want your belly rubbed in your sleep.”  She laughed and ran her stocking foot along his chest. The big dog was a comfort to her on nights like this. Alana wasn’t afraid to be out here, in the middle of nowhere, alone.  It was just that tonight, something troubling was brewing and it was pricking at the edges of her peace.
The day had started out like most of her early autumn days. Getting up well before the sun came up, she had done some yoga, meditated and gave thanks for the many blessings life had given her. Breakfast had been a healthy combination of fruit, yogurt and granola with a cup of Irish breakfast tea sweetened with honey from the local beekeeper. After Buddy and Anastasia, her cross-eyed white Siamese cat had been fed, she spent some time cutting lavender and collecting ripe vegetables from her garden. Since the day had been sunny, she decided to leave the truck in the barn and ride her bicycle the three miles into town where she had her shop, Blessed Be.
Blessed Be was her pride and joy. A little bit of everything that Alana loved. She carried candles, potpourri and soaps made in her kitchen, herbs she grew in her own garden, used and new books, music CDs, and handmade crafts. Occasionally she would do the occasional spell or reading when it felt right to do so.  
This morning the shop had been especially busy for a week day and she didn’t notice when the clouds started gathering off to the west, filtering out the sun. She did some accounting work while she ate her lunch, vegetable soup brought to her by her friend Bessie at the little diner opposite her shop, and caught up on her internet orders. When the delivery man pulled up out front to collect her shipments, he shook his head.  
“Sure is a long winded storm brewing on the other side of the lake. I hope you drove to work this morning.” She looked up from her work, a calligraphy piece with an Irish blessing on recycled paper, she noticed through the front window the dark clouds that appeared to be boiling in the sky. By the time she closed the shop at five, the clouds were still hanging angrily in the sky but had not moved any closer to Lakeview, the small town that sat on the northern bank of Victory Lake.  
The main street of town ended at the public access beach which boasted a smattering of guest cabins that were generally full the entire summer. As she rode her bicycle home, she kept a close watch over her left shoulder and noticed that the clouds were moving along the same path as her own.  She got the first chill up her spine as she rode the bicycle down the lane to her little farm.
Sitting here now, she had a feeling something was about to usurp the peacefulness of their small town.  She had circled her cabin and barn with salt, reciting the protection spell her mother taught her and her sisters many years ago while they were mere children.  “It is the most important spell you must learn.” She could hear her as if she were right in front of her today, even though Rowena was tucked away in County Kildare in Ireland with Alana’s stepfather Niall Fitzgerald.  
Rowena decided when the last of her daughters had turned twenty-one, it was time for her to go in search of her heritage which led her to Ireland.  Alana, being the oldest of the three sisters probably remembered her father the most. Hobart Summers was a somber man, the exact opposite of their mother who was always filled with light, laughter and good spirit.  He had been a good provider and when he passed from a sudden brain aneurism at thirty-five, he had left them with enough to live comfortably until they were all grown.
With her husband gone, Rowena was tired of living in the city and felt drawn to move all of them to Lakeview where she had worked as the manager to the lake cabins during the tourist season and part time at the small, local library during the off season.
Alana loved the peaceful solitude here in the country on her farm, and she relished the familiarity of small town life.  Her sisters had chosen entirely different lives. Teagan was the materialistic one of the three and she had gone to college with the intent of learning something that would land her a wealthy husband and lifestyle.  Not faring well on the first with a messy divorce behind her, she was a travel agent in Miami, Florida. Riana was the youngest of them, she was still finding her way in life, living like a modern-day gypsy moving every few months and doing whatever job appealed to her at the moment.  The last Alana knew, she was working as a black jack dealer in Las Vegas.
Alana smiled to herself as she thought of her sisters.  She missed them when they weren’t here and when they were both here for a visit, she spent most of her time and patience mediating between the younger two.  Teagan always judging Riana for her lack of direction and Riana reminding Teagan that she was the one who had married a drunk playboy that had made sure she didn’t have ‘jackshit’ to show for it when they got divorced.  And when Alana tried to intervene, they both inevitably turned on her and told her that she was going to live like an old maid the rest of her life if she stayed in this boring hole of a town. Rowena called weekly to check on all of them, but most of the time the only one that she could ever get hold of on a regular basis was Alana.  “You are such a grounding force for our family, Alana.” That was always how Rowena ended their calls. Sometimes, Alana didn’t want to be the grounding force but it was what it was. Alana’s Wiccan element was Earth and that was what Earth did, it grounded. She reached for her tea and took a sip, enjoying the rich flavor of Earl Grey, her favorite.  The fire crackled and Buddy groaned in his sleep, his back leg jumping as he dreamed of chasing some poor rabbit or squirrel in the woods. Anastasia was perched on the back of the sofa, her purring so loud that Alana could hear her from where she sat in her grandmother’s old wing chair on the opposite side of the room. The lights flickered a bit, but Alana was well prepared after spending the first winter without electric about half of the time.  She had installed a propane powered generator the following spring which switched on automatically if the power went completely out.
Her cabin was cozy.  She didn’t know exactly when it had been built, but she guessed probably in the early nineteen thirties when Lakeview first became a tourist spot.  The property sat three miles from the town and about three and a half from the main shoreline but in this spot there was a small inlet the size of a large pond just a few hundred yards behind the barn.  The main living area was open with the kitchen to the front on the right side of the entrance with a breakfast bar being the only thing that separated it from the small dining area that held a round table with two ladder back chairs.  
The hand hewn, pine cabinets were plentiful and she had a laundry room off the kitchen which had yet more pantry storage.  Beyond that area was her bathroom with its antique, claw foot tub and a more recently added modern shower. The sitting area of the living room was to the back of the cabin with a natural stone fireplace on one wall and bookcases tucked under the open staircase that led to the loft above.  A door was in the middle of the bookcases and that door led to a small guest room where the previous owners had left twin beds.
A set of French doors faced the back, something that Alana had installed when she moved in so that she could have a good view of the woods from the covered back porch during the summer and from her living room in the winter.  She used the space in the loft for her bedroom where she had put a king-sized bed in the middle of the room where the peak of the roof was. Her plan was to someday have a skylight installed in the roof above her bed so that she could see the moon and stars from her bed at night and so that the sun shone down on her every morning.
Generally, she watched television in the evening once the sun went down while she either read a book or did a needlecraft project.  Her home was filled with things she had created herself and she loved books, which was evident by the full shelves under the staircase.  Tonight, the satellite dish had gone on the fritz long before the rain started, so she turned on the CD player and listened to some relaxing instrumental music while she ate her dinner. Ham and cheese sandwich between two slices of homemade bread and a handful of sweet potato chips dipped in some caramel sauce.
She pondered how to fill the evening ahead.  It had gotten dark early because of the approaching storm, a stark reminder that as the coming days passed by, winter would be nearer.  When she consulted the earth spirits over the weekend during her Sunday afternoon ritual, they warned of an early winter and urged her to finish up the harvest as quickly as possible.  However, the popcorn was not nearly mature enough to harvest and would need at least another month. The pumpkins and squash weren’t completely ripened either and her three apple trees had not fared well this year because of a late freeze that killed most of the early blooms.  But she had heeded their warning and picked what she could, spending most of the afternoon on Sunday roasting sunflower seeds and stringing peppers to hang in the laundry room to dry.
The book on the table by her chair beckoned to her.  It was a recent best seller by one of her favorite authors, a romance writer who threw in a little bit of paranormal for a twist.  She picked up the book and tucked her legs up beneath her, the afghan wrapped around her lower body. Maybe reading something romantic would ease the uncomfortable feeling that still permeated her body.  
The sound of the rain on the roof, the crackle of the fire, the softly playing music combined to relax Alana as she read and she felt her eyelids go heavy.  Her breathing became shallow and the book slipped from her hands onto her lap as she dozed off.
She was running through the woods toward the small inlet behind the barn.  The full moon overhead lit her way through the branches of the trees that had shed a portion of their leaves.  Something, someone was compelling her to come.
Help.  Help me.  Please help me.
A cloud drifted across the moon and the woods was dark for a moment but it didn’t matter, she knew these woods like the back of her hand.  One of the gifts of having Earth as her own element. Her bare feet touched the damp ground, the recent rain leaving puddles in some parts of the path that weren’t covered by the trees.  
Why am I here?  Oh, yes, the compelling subconscious knowledge that she was needed to help someone.  Suddenly, the woods closed up and the path disappeared. How could this be? This was a familiar path.  Where was Buddy? He had been ahead of me. She tried to call out to him but nothing came out of her mouth.  Had she remembered to ground and protect herself before rushing out of the cabin in the middle of the night?  She couldn’t remember.  The moon disappeared completely, only it wasn’t the clouds that were covering the moon.  What is it? It feels bad. Evil. Wicked. She tripped over a root that shouldn’t have been in her path and felt herself falling.   Falling. Falling.
The wind picked up outside the cabin and a branch banged against the window, causing Anastasia to come off her perch on the back of the sofa and hiss.  It was a chain reaction then, with Buddy stiffening up under her feet and sending out a warning growl. Anastasia growled low in her throat, a warning growl, then arched her back with the hair standing up.  Buddy came to his feet and ran toward the door, barking vigorously, the sound echoing throughout the cabin.
Alana awoke with a start and took a relaxing breath when she realized she had fallen asleep and was dreaming.  But something was wrong, she could sense it. Buddy was still barking furiously at the door and as she got up, his tail started wagging and he let out a whine about the same time a knock sounded at her door.  Buddy whined again and pawed at the door.
She blinked the last remnants of sleep out of her eyes and got up from the chair, crossing the wood floor in her stocking feet.  Reaching for the door knob she pushed gently at Buddy with her foot. “Move, you big lug. I can’t open the door with you in front of it.”  The dog complied, his whole body wagging now and his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, ready to give a serious tongue bath to whomever was on the other side of the door.
When she pulled the door open, a tall, familiar form was standing on her porch under the yellowish light.  His back was to her, but she recognized the jeans clad figure with the holster at his side. Logan Farmer, the county sheriff, turned to face her and the look on his face was a grim one. “Alana.  It’s not good.” He took a breath, his shoulders lifting and falling with the action. “Old Herman Monroe. I got the call about an hour ago.” He looked down at his feet for a moment and Alana followed his gaze.  
The boots were covered with mud and something else.  Blood. She put a hand out to touch his arm. She and Logan had been friends since they were kids and he had even dated her sister, Teagan, briefly.  Very briefly. “What is it, Logan?”
When he looked up at her, his dark eyes were glistening with unshed tears.  “He’s dead, Alana. His wife went to search for him when he didn’t come in for dinner and she found him in the barnyard.  She thought maybe he slipped in the mud when he was feeding the livestock but when she looked closer, it looked…” His words trailed off and he appeared to be trying to compose himself before he continued.
This time, when Alana touched his arm she closed her eyes and the image came into her mind as clearly as if she had seen it herself.  The old man lying in the muddy barnyard with his dead eyes staring up in fear and his throat ripped out. She pulled away, her stomach roiling and tears coming to her eyes.  “An animal? How can that be, Logan?”
He lifted his eyes to meet hers.  “You know how as well as I do. We all knew this was going to happen.”












Threefold
The
Summer Sisters Book 2

Teagan
Summers has a secret that she thought she had tucked away forever.
That is, until she was summoned to her home town of Lakewood to help
with banishing an ancient evil that had come to pay a visit to the
sleepy town. Then, she was faced with another woman whose secret
wasn't so secret anymore.



Devon
Brock knew he had to help his friend, Logan Farmer. Logan had helped
him out too many times to turn his back and say no. However, he
didn't realize that he would be called upon to pull out his law
license to defend a poor woman who had killed and mutilated her
husband on Halloween night. And he sure never expected to have to
deal with spoiled Teagan Summers as part of it.

Devon
and Teagan join forces as they work valiantly to not only defend a
murderess, but to help Teagan's sisters and Logan Farmer as they
battle an unseen evil that threatens to destroy the small town of
Lakewood. And as they work together, they also form a tentative truce
that they both know could lead to more.







Namaste
The
Summer Sisters Book 3

Riana
Summers had spent most of her adult life trying to find herself. The
youngest of the three Summer Sisters, she just couldn't resist sowing
her wild oats and she had done it across the country. When her
sister, Alana, had summoned her to come home to Lakeview because she
was needed to do her part to hunt down and destroy an evil entity
which had been playing havoc on her hometown, she did so with the
intention of returning to her stand-up comedy gig in Las Vegas. She
had no idea her brief trip home would turn to months and that she
would end up finding out who she really was. Or that she would find
herself face to face with a man who could get her to want to settle
down.



Eric
Michaels had been born and raised to be a farmer. It was what he did
best. So, when the opportunity to be the foreman at a farm near a
place called Lakeview, he had jumped at the chance. What he hadn't
planned on was getting sucked into a paranormal nightmare. Things he
couldn't even begin to fathom. Including finding himself deeply
attracted to a woman who could create magic with the tips of her
fingers.

As
the conclusion of the Summer Sisters trilogy comes to an end, will
they be able to destroy the force that had unearthed itself from its
deep dark grave to destroy them?











Teresa
Keefer is an indie romance author with an avid love of books. She
started writing poetry in high school and after encouragement from a
dear friend, wrote her first full length romance novel in 2007.
Coming Home was finally released as a self-published book in
2011.



Teresa
holds an MBA in Human Resources and attended law school for two
years. She lives in rural Indiana with a menagerie of animals and
enjoys the peace of working in the garden and yard of her home. She
has three adult daughters and seven grandchildren and enjoys
crafting, cooking, reading, and studying spirituality in her spare
time when she's not writing or working at her day job.

Her household includes a spoiled dog, three cats, two goats and a
stubborn miniature horse. 








Follow
the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!




The Blue Unicorn's Journey to Osm Black and White Coloring Book by Sybrina Durant


The
Blue Unicorn's Journey to Osm
Black
and White Coloring Book
by
Sybrina Durant


Genre:
Middle Grade Fantasy

The
wood-cut look illustrations in The Blue Unicorn’s Journey To Osm
Black and White Illustrated book are reminiscent of old world
fairytales by authors like Lewis Carroll and The Brother’s Grimm.
It is a story which transcends age and presents valuable life lessons
on overcoming adversity through perseverance and valuing friendship.



Everybody
loves unicorns! OK maybe they don't but for those who do, they will
love this story about a little unicorn who was born into a tribe of
magical, metal horned unicorns. The little guy has no magic and he
has no metal but somehow he must save the tribe from an evil
sorcerer. Read the book to find out if he can do it.


The
metal horned unicorns are doomed!” That’s what Lauda Lead Horn
wailed when she first saw the tribe’s new savior. OK, so his horn
was not metal. . .and he did not have a magic power. . .and he was
really a puny little runt. But doomed? Were things really that
bad?

Well,
things were pretty bad in the land of MarBryn. Magh, an evil sorcerer
utilized unicorn horns and hooves to create his magical potions and
spells. Those he used, to increase his power and to conquer everyone
in his path. All of the unicorns from the Tribe of the Metal Horn
were now gone . . . except for twelve survivors.

Before
the blue unicorn was born, Numen told Alumna, the aluminum-horned
oracle, that he had a plan to bring the tribe back home to Unimaise.
His prophecy was, “Only the blue unicorn can join with the
Moon-Star. Until then, no new unicorns will be born.” Blue was the
last unicorn born. Twenty years later, his horn was still covered
with a plain blue colored hide. There was not a glint of metal to be
seen on it or his hooves. And he still didn’t have any magic. But
he was no longer scrawny and he had his wits. Though no one else in
the tribe thought he had a chance, Blue felt ready to make Magh pay
for his evil deeds. And he went off to do it alone. That was Blue’s
first mistake. If the entire tribe was not standing horn-tip to
horn-tip at the proper time and the exact place to help usher the
Moon-Star Spirit into Blue’s horn, he would die. Then, the rest of
the tribe would really be doomed.

Readers
will follow along two journey paths in this book. Blue is joined in
his travels by his mentor Gaiso, the Stag and his friend, Girasol the
Firebird as they try to find their way across a danger-filled MarBryn
to Muzika Woods. The rest of Blue’s tribe is forced to follow
another route due to Nix Nickle Horn’s unfortunate incident with a
Manticore. Nix, the great unicorn defender must safely lead the way
for Ghel, the Golden-Horned unicorn; Silubhra Silver Horn; Cornum the
Brass-Horned unicorn; Steel Horned Style; Cuprum the Copper-Horned
unicorn; Tin-Horned Tinam; Dr. Zinko; Iown the Iron-Horned unicorn
and the others in an action packed adventure to their destination in
Muzika Woods. Both journey paths converge there in the Nebulium
Circle.

This
ebook, for teens and older readers, will introduce you to the Read
and Color black and white version of The Blue Unicorn's Journey To
Osm Illustrated book. If you love to read and you love to color, this
is the book for you. Read a chapter, then color the fanciful pictures
yourself in this fully-illustrated black and white version of "The
Blue Unicorn's Journey To Osm". 

This
book, written by Sybrina Durant and illustrated by Dasguptarts,
offers readers a 
visual
feast of over forty beautiful water-color pictures that each span two
pages. Forty-two - easy to digest two-page chapters are chock full of
adventurous and entertaining morsels. If you love to read and you
love to color, this is the book for you. Read a chapter, then color
the fanciful pictures yourself in this fully-illustrated black and
white version of "The Blue Unicorn's Journey To Osm". This
illustrated book will become a favorite of teen and older fantasy
readers.  A companion coloring/ character description book is
also available at any online bookstore.












Hi!


I'm
Sybrina. . .. . .Just one of millions of wannabe
author/singer/songwriters out there but I hope, after reading or
hearing my books and songs, you'll think my contributions to the
world have as much value as any other famous artist out there
today. 

Fame
is all in being in the right place at the right time but at least
with the internet and venues like this, all of us have opportunities
to share our creativity with the world. I'm so happy that I am able
to share my works with you. That is awesome!

The
books I’ve written span a wide range between illustrated picture
books, coloring books and YA novels to technical and how-to books. 

Enjoy!






Follow
the tour HERE
for exclusive content and a giveaway!






To Love a Duchess by Karen Ranney


From New York Times Bestselling Author Karen Ranney comes the first book in a royally romantic and deeply emotional new series about taking risks and allowing the power to love satisfy the questions of the heart . . .
Undercover as a majordomo, spy Adam Drummond has infiltrated Marsley House with one purpose only—to plunder its mysteries and gather proof that the late Duke of Marsley was an unforgivable traitor to his country. At the same time, Adam is drawn to a more beguiling puzzle: the young and still-grieving duchess—a beauty with impenetrable secrets of her own. For Drummond, uncovering them without exposing his masquerade will require the most challenging and tender moves of his career.
That a servant can arouse such passion in her is too shocking for Suzanne Whitcomb, Duchess of Marsley, to consider. Yet nothing quickens her pulse like Drummond’s touch. It’s been two years since the duke lost his life in a tragic accident—and even longer since she’s been treated like a woman. But when Drummond’s real mission is revealed, and the truth behind Suzanne’s grief comes to light, every secret conspired to tear them apart is nothing compared to the love that can hold them together.

About the Book

To Love a Duchess
by Karen Ranney
Series
All For Love Series
Genre
Adult
Historical Romance
Publisher
Avon Books
Publication Date
July 30, 2018
Purchase Your Copy Today!
Amazon  |  Avon Romance  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Google Play  |  iBooks

Excerpt:
Chapter One
September 1864
Marsley House
London, England



He felt the duke’s stare on him the minute he walked into the room. Adam Drummond closed the double doors behind him quietly so as not to alert the men at the front door. Tonight Thomas was training one of the young lads new to the house. If they were alerted to his presence in the library they would investigate. He had a story prepared for that eventuality. He couldn’t sleep, which wasn’t far from the truth. Nightmares often kept him from resting more than a few hours at a time. A good thing he had years of practice getting by with little sleep. He’d left his suite attired only in a collarless white shirt and black trousers. Another fact for which he’d have to find an explanation. As the majordomo of Marsley House he was expected to wear the full uniform of his position at all times, even in the middle of the night. Perhaps not donning the white waistcoat, cravat, and coat was an act of rebellion. Strange, since he’d never been a rebel before. It was this place, this house, this assignment that was affecting him. For the first time in seven years he hadn’t borrowed a name or a history carefully concocted by the War Office. He’d taken the position as himself, Adam Drummond, Scot and former soldier with Her Majesty’s army. The staff knew his real name. Some even knew parts of his true history. The housekeeper called him Adam, knew he was a widower, was even aware of his birthdate. He felt exposed, an uncomfortable position for a man who’d worked in the shadows for years. He lit one of the lamps hanging from a chain fixed to the ceiling. The oil was perfumed, the scent reminiscent of jasmine. The world of the Whitcombs was unique, separated from the proletariat by two things: the peerage and wealth. The pale yellow light revealed only the area near the desk. The rest of the huge room was in shadow.

The library was ostentatious, a word he’d heard one of the maids try to pronounce. “And what does it mean, I’m asking you?” She’d been talking to one of the cook’s helpers, but he’d interjected. “It means fancy.” She’d made a face before saying, “Well, why couldn’t they just say fancy, then?”
Because everything about Marsley House was ostentatious. This library certainly qualified. The room had
three floors connected by a circular black iron staircase. The third floor was slightly larger than the second,
making it possible for a dozen lamps to hang from chains affixed to each level at different heights.
If he’d lit them all it would have been bright as day in here, illuminating thousands of books.
He didn’t think the Whitcomb family had read every one of the volumes. Some of them looked as
if they were new, the dark green leather and gold spines no doubt as shiny as when they’d arrived
from the booksellers. Others were so well worn that he couldn’t tell what the titles were until he pulled
them from the shelves and opened them. There were a great many books on military history and he suspected that was the late duke’s doing. He turned to look at the portrait over the mantel. George Whitcomb, Tenth Duke of Marsley, was wearing his full military uniform, the scarlet jacket so bright a shade that Adam’s eyes almost watered. The duke’s medals gleamed as if the sun had come out from behind the artist’s window to shine directly on such an exalted personage. He wore a sword tied at his waist and his head was turned slightly to the right, his gaze one that Adam remembered. Contempt shone in his eyes, as if everything the duke witnessed was beneath him, be it people, circumstances, or the scenery of India. Adam was surprised that the man had allowed himself to be painted with graying hair. Even his mutton chop whiskers were gray and brown. In India, Whitcomb had three native servants whose sole duties were to ensure the duke’s sartorial perfection at all times. He was clipped and coiffed and brushed and shined so that he could parade before his men as the ultimate authority of British might.

His eyes burned out from the portrait, so dark brown that they appeared almost black, narrowed
and penetrating. “Damn fine soldiers, every single one of them. All mongrels, of course, but fighting men.”
At least the voice—surprisingly higher in pitch than Adam had expected—was silent now. He didn’t
have to hear himself being called a mongrel again. Whitcomb had been talking about the British regiments
assigned to guard the East India Company settlements. He could well imagine the man’s comments about native soldiers. What a damned shame Whitcomb had been killed in a carriage accident. He deserved a firing squad at the very least. He wished the duke to Hell as he had ever since learning of the man’s death. The approaching storm with its growling thunder seemed to approve of the sentiment. As if to further remind him of India, his shoulder began to throb. Every time it rained the scar announced its presence, the bullet wound just one more memory to be expunged. It was this house. It brought to mind everything he’d tried to forget for years. Adam turned away from the portrait, his attention on the massive, heavily tooled mahogany desk. This, too, was larger than it needed to be, raised on a dais, more a throne than a place a man might work. A perfect reflection of the Duke of Marsley’s arrogance. The maids assigned this room had left the curtains open. If he had been a proper majordomo he would no doubt chastise them for their oversight. But because he’d been a leader of men, not of maids, he decided not to mention it.

Lightning flashed nearby, the strike followed by another shot of thunder. The glass shivered in the
mullioned panes. Maybe the duke’s ghost was annoyed that he was here in the library again.
The careening of the wind around this portion of Marsley House sounded almost like a warning.
Adam disregarded it as he glanced up to the third floor. He would have to be looking for a journal. That
was tantamount to searching for a piece of coal in a mine or a grain of sand on the beach.
This assignment had been difficult from the beginning. He’d been tasked to find evidence of the duke’s
treason. While he believed the man to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, finding the
proof had been time consuming and unsuccessful to this point. He wasn’t going to give up, however. This was more than an assignment for him. It was personal. One of the double doors opened, startling him.
“Sir?” Daniel, the newest footman, stood there. The lad was tall, as were all of the young men hired at Marsley House. His shock of red hair was accompanied by a splattering of freckles across his face, almost as if God had wielded a can of paint and tripped when approaching Daniel. His eyes were a clear blue and
direct as only the innocent could look. Adam always felt old and damaged in Daniel’s presence.
“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” the young footman asked.
“I’ve come to find something to read.” There, as an excuse it should bear scrutiny. He could always claim
that he was about to examine the Marsley House ledgers, even though he normally performed that task
in his own suite. “Yes, sir.”
“I think we had a prowler the other night,” Adam said, improvising. “One of the maids mentioned her
concern.”
“Sir?”
Daniel was a good lad, the kind who wouldn’t question a direct order.
“I’d like you to watch the outer door to the Tudor garden.”
“Yes, sir,” Daniel said, nodding.
“Tell Thomas that I need you there.”
“Yes, sir,” the young man said again, still nodding. Once he, too, had been new to a position. In his
case, Her Majesty’s army. Yet he’d never been as innocent as Daniel. Still, he remembered feeling uncertain and worried in those first few months, concerned that he wasn’t as competent at his tasks as he should be. For that reason he stopped the young man before he left the library.
“I’ve heard good reports about you, Daniel.”
The young man’s face reddened. “Thank you, sir.”
“I think you’ll fit in well at Marsley House.”
“Thank you, Mr. Drummond.”

A moment later Daniel was gone, the door closed once again. Adam watched for a minute before turning
and staring up at the third floor. The assignment he’d been given was to find one particular journal. Unfortunately, that was proving to be more difficult than originally thought. The
Duke of Marsley had written in a journal since he
was a boy. The result was that there were hundreds of books Adam needed to read.

After climbing the circular stairs, he grabbed the next two journals to be examined and brought them
back to the first floor. He doubted if the duke would approve of him sitting at his desk, which was why
Adam did so, opening the cover of one of the journals and forcing himself to concentrate on the duke’s
overly ornate handwriting. He didn’t look over at the portrait again, but it still seemed as if the duke watched as he read. At first Adam thought it was the sound of the storm before realizing that thunder didn’t speak in a female voice. He stood and extinguished the lamp, but the darkness wasn’t absolute. The lightning sent bright flashes of light into the library.






Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the release of TO LOVE A DUCHESS by Karen Ranney, we’re giving away two paperback copies of THE TEXAN DUKE!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open to US shipping addresses only. Two winners will each receive a paperback copy of the The Texan Duke by Karen Ranney. This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Avon Romance.  Giveaway ends 8/11/2018 @ 11:59pm EST. Avon Romance will send the winning copies out to the winner directly. Limit one entry per reader and mailing address. Duplicates will be deleted.  CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

About Karen Ranney


KAREN RANNEY began writing when she was five. Her first published work was The Maple Leaf, read over the school intercom when she was in the first grade. In addition to wanting to be a violinist (her parents had a special violin crafted for her when she was seven), she wanted to be a lawyer, a teacher, and most of all, a writer. Though the violin was discarded early, she still admits to a fascination with the law, and she volunteers as a teacher whenever needed. Writing, however, has remained an overwhelming love of her life.
Website  |  Goodreads  |  Amazon



CANDYLOVE Detangler Hair Brush with Mirror



CANDYLOVE Detangler Hair Brush with Mirror

I am actually loving this Small handheld collapsible detangling hairbrush from CandyLove. The brush comes with cover that has a small mirror inside. The bristles push down into the brush when you are not using it and you push gently from the back to push the bristles out when you are ready to use the brush. The brush fits easily into the palm of your hand for easy brushing and storage when not in use. The brush fits easily in a purse, backpack, tote bag, glove box, suitcase and pretty much anything else you carry. 

The bristles are not straight they are thin plastic zig zag bristles. They brush adds volume to your hair, it is great for hair that breaks easily, for permed and damaged hair. It also works for straight, wavy and even curly hair. Can be used with results on wet or dry hair. 

I used it on one of kids hair that had tangles and the tangles came out very easily with no screaming from the child. 

The brush is also easily cleanable. This brush is very colorful, I got the pink one but you can also get it in black. The bristles are a rainbow of colors. It's actually pretty to look at.  


I received this product for free or  at a discounted price in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.

ONTA gorsun Foldable On Ear Audio Adjustable Lightweight Headphone (pink)



ONTA gorsun Foldable On Ear Audio Adjustable Lightweight Headphone (pink)


When I first saw these on Amazon I was thinking KID!! Now that I have them I am thinking these are great for anyone. The sound quality is awesome. Better then any of the other headphones I have tried. They are very lightweight and comfortable to wear for the kids, but I personally like the weight for myself. The adjust easily to fit any size head. Even the kids can wear them. These headphones do fold up to make it easier to store them. These do not include a storage bag but That is not a big problem for me.

These come in 6 colors, Pink, black, teal, orange, white, and yellow. The padding on the ear muffs is super soft and very comfortable to wear as is the padded headband. They adjust from the ear muff itself instead of the headband. You can add an extra almost 6 inches to the head size by adjusting them. To adjust just grasp a ear muff and gently pull.

These work with pretty much anything that takes a 3.5mm audio jack. I have used it with my Android phone, my MP3, my computer, and even hooked them up to my car stereo.

I am very impressed with this set of headphones. These are great for adults and kids and would make a great gift.
Check it out on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01N0GYMPD

#Onta #Gorsun #Headphones #StereoHeadphones #KidsHeadphones #adultHehadphones

I received this product for free or  at a discounted price in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.

FLORA GUARD Professional Sharp Garden Pruner




FLORA GUARD Professional Sharp Garden Pruner

My husband decided to give me a hand on this review. He was cutting the grape vines off the back fence. We have a wood privacy fence and the vines are growing up and over and through the fence wood. He made it his project this weekend to get them off of the fence befor ethe weight of them could damage the fence. I handed him this pair of Flora Guard Pruning shears to see how well they would work on the vines. Some of the vines are very skinny others go up to about the size of my finger.

He said these pruning shears are Very sharp and takes very little effort to cut vines and limbs. The cut very easy and fit into his hand very nicely. He is quite happy with how well these pruning shears work.


These pruning shears have a safety lock that can be locked and unlocked with just one hand. The blades are made of steel, and very sharp. These pruning shears also have anti rust protection, and non sticking layer design. These pruners can cut up to 20mm or 3/4-inch diameter size tree branches, great for most of your yard projects. The handles are plastic and the whole set is lightweight.

Check these out on Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XZ3TPW4

I received this product for free or  at a discounted price in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.