Originally from Manchester, England, Netta has travelled extensively and has lived and worked in a variety of exciting places. She now lives in New Zealand with her husband. They have three grown up children and four grandchildren.
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Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Book Tour "Grave Injustice" by Netta Newbound
Originally from Manchester, England, Netta has travelled extensively and has lived and worked in a variety of exciting places. She now lives in New Zealand with her husband. They have three grown up children and four grandchildren.
Blurb Blitz: So Near the Horizon by Jessica Koch
Grinders Corner by Ferris H. Craig & Charlene Keel
Like lambs led to the slaughter, Uptown, a newly divorced English major with panic anxiety disorder and no job skills, Voluptua, an out of work actress, and Mouse, a former child star trying to make a comeback all struggle to make enough tickets to pay the bills. Things get complicated when Uptown falls in love with a customer who happens to be a priest.
In Grinders Corner it was a simpler time, long before gentlemen’s clubs and pole dancers, and it happened in a place where shy, lonely men could talk to women, even dance with them, with no fear of rejection—for about fifteen cents a minute.
Must Love More Kilts by Angela Quarles book blitz
Must Love More Kilts
Angela Quarles
(Must Love #4)
Publication date: August 29th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Time-Travel
What if your husband turns out to be the man sent to kill your ancestor?
A choice to make…
Highland Games fanatic Fiona Campbell believes her only compelling quality is her family’s history, myths, and legends. So when she travels back to 1689 Scotland and discovers she’s the Fiona of family legend, you’d expect her to be excited. And she is. Except that the legendary warrior she’s to save her ancestor from is the hottie in a kilt she just handfasted.
A heart to heal…
Duncan MacCowan trusted his heart once to the wrong woman, but when a strange lass drops into his life and pries opens his heart once again, he impulsively handfasts her. Yet before visions of domestic bliss are even done dancing in his head, she flees on the night of their wedding, leaving him brokenhearted and even more convinced that he can’t trust his own instincts when his heart is involved.
A family legend that will tear them apart
Fiona wants to shake her fist at Fate–she finally meets the man of her dreams but can’t have him because of the family legend? Not cool, Fate, not cool. Duncan believes he’s just terrible at picking women and is resigned to being alone. But as their attraction proves too strong, they dare to tempt Fate, but can Love conquer Fate?
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks
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EXCERPT:
CHAPTER ONE
“So you’ve returned,” Duncan rasped, the words catching, slicing through a too-dry throat. “The woman who one moment handfasted with me”—he swallowed to ease his throat and blinked, hoping to keep the phantasm in view—“and the next turned me out of bed in disgust.”
Was…was the lovely nighean wiping his brow indeed his Fiona?
His Fiona.
Ach, fever-addled his mind was. The handfasting, her disappearance… But that was several weeks past. More events had transpired, he was sure.
Sharp pain speared his shoulder and filtered across his chest, a reminder.
The battle…
“What happened?” The words scratched past his parched throat, but he’d be damned if he let that stop him. Wincing, he rolled upward, but his muscles protested, and he dropped back against the unforgiving mattress, jarring the pain in his shoulder. The movement set his world spinning, his head strangely a-whirl. Mo Chreach, what ailed him?
He clamped his eyes closed, as if to shield his roiling stomach.
A warm hand pushed against his chest, the touch gentle but firm. “Easy now,” her melodious, oddly accented voice said near his ear.
Day and night that voice had haunted him since first he’d heard it.
She pushed her arm under his shoulders and gripped him tight, the fabric of her clothing cool against his heated skin. Her scent, like the freshest grass in spring and the sweetest flowers, enveloped him. “Try to drink this.” She raised him slightly.
He cracked an eye open again. Aye. ’Twas Fiona. Feverish he might be, but never could he be forgetting the night she secretly pledged herself to him and then pushed him away.
Nor could he ignore how her nearness now acted as a balm. A balm which soothed his confusion and pain.
His eyes had a dry, dragging weight to them. He blinked. Forced them open. Though darkness cloaked the room, save a lone, flickering candle near the bed, he recognized the bare stone walls and sparse furniture of his own chamber. How…?
“It wasn’t disgust.” Her voice was small, tentative.
Before he could reply, she pressed the tin cup to his mouth, the metal cool against his parched, dry lips. He took a sip, quickly swallowing. Bitter. Metallic. Not as putrid as old Hamish’s concoction. Och, she could be poisoning him, to be sure, but his mind was so clouded, his body so racked with pain, that he cared not.
He eased back against the pillow and closed his eyes, the exercise strangely exhausting.
“What happened?” he asked again.
“What do you remember?”
Smoke from the discharge of hundreds of rifles and the scattered cannon of the Williamites. Confusion as the battle waged in the twilight. The vacant eyes of their chieftain fixed on the blue-night sky. And then… “Yourself. And Traci appearing at the battle. Dundee, shot.”
“No,” she whispered. He shouldn’t find even the tone of her voice lovely, but curse him, he did. “You were shot. You took the bullet meant for him.”
Shot. He edged his hand up his chest, the action disconcertingly hard to achieve. His fingers searched, touched. Met with stiff fabric. That explained his shoulder. The ungodly pain. But he’d suffer that and more if it meant Dundee lived.
Did he? “And Dundee? Iain?” He dropped his arm back to his side.
“Both survived the battle.”
A light feeling suffused him, the relief easing the last of his tension, though it highlighted the pain clamping down on his shoulder, throbbing. “I must be going to the great hall. Help me arise, woman.”
She pushed against him, her enticing scent shrouding him anew. Near her elbow, the candle lent enough light to caress the gentle, sloping line of her neck, delicate jaw, round cheek, and…
Holy Mother. Those eyes. Those gray-blue, intelligent but playful eyes. Eyes that had also drawn him that first night they’d met.
So enthusiastic, she’d been. Her smiles. Och, made just for him they seemed, though he’d told himself it couldn’t be so. But as the night spun onward, and his defenses crumbled, he’d thought… Well, he thought he’d finally found the one person who made him feel wanted for himself, not for what he could do for them. Aye, he’d finally and inexplicably felt at home.
As they handfasted in secret, trusting his instincts, he spun fancies as to the shape of their shared life. The little ones they’d create together. The belonging he’d feel. Already felt.
However, when they were to lay together, she recoiled, and he cursed himself for a fool. Cursed the whisky he’d consumed. For he’d forgotten his heart’s poor judgment. Longing speared through him anew, rivaling the pain in his shoulder.
Concern marred her forehead, but he’d be unwise to believe it meant anything more. They’d handfasted, aye, but that meant nothing if the other didn’t acknowledge it. Especially in these modern times with the Kirk frowning on such declarations, and with no witnesses.
Author Bio:
Don't miss Angela's next release! Sign up for her newsletter http://bit.ly/1sde3Qi and be notified when the next book goes on pre-order/sale, and also receive exclusive content!
Angela is a USA Today bestselling author. Her debut novel MUST LOVE BREECHES swept many unpublished romance contests, including the Grand Prize winner of Windy City's Four Seasons contest in 2012. Angela loves history, folklore, and family history, and has been a hobby historian for twenty+ years. She decided to take her love of history and her active imagination and write stories of love and adventure for others to enjoy. When writing, she's either at her desk in the finished attic of an historic home in beautiful and quirky Mobile, AL, or at her fave spot at the local Starbucks. When she isn't writing, she's either working at the local indie bookstore or enjoying the usual stuff like gardening, reading, hanging out, eating, drinking, chasing squirrels out of the walls, and creating the occasional knitted scarf.
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Escape from Heartland by Jacquie Gee blitz
Escape from Heartland
Jacquie Gee
(Heartland Cove, #2)
Publication date: August 22nd 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
We hardly know each other, yet somehow, on some unexplainable level, it feels like we’ve known each other forever.
Jules Bates is a fish-out-of-water in conservative, small town, Heartland Cove. A modern girl with modern dreams that have so far taken her all the way to father’s bait shop at the end of town. There, she spends her days, elbow-deep in worm dirt. She can’t remember the last time she’s been on a date, or dressed in anything but a lumberjack shirt and hip waders. Her life seems to be at a stalemate. It’s like her best friend said, “The perfect guy doesn’t just walk through your door and sweep you off your feet, you know?”
Or does he?Jayden Sievert is on a mission, to solve the mystery of his life. But first he needs to track down a ghost. One in particular. The legend of Heartland Cove. Arriving in the small town, with his ghostbuster wannabe equipment in hand, he purchases the Caldwell place, much to the horror of the townsfolk—a stately Georgian Manor overlooking the sea, with a less than pleasant past. No one’s been brave enough to set foot in that place for over a decade.
Is this man mad? Or perhaps just a little crazy?
Jayden ignores them all. He knows the key to his success lies in his ability to minimize distractions, but then he meets Jules. Could she be the answer to the long-buried secret that Jayden’s spent a lifetime searching for?
The second in the series of sweet romances set in fiction Heartland Cove, this contemporary coming-of-age romance features a deliciously unexpected paranormal twist!
—
EXCERPT:
“Maybe she was here and left. I was supposed to be here sooner. Maybe she thought I was a no-show.”
“Maybe. But she would have texted. Anna’s not one to give up that easily on a sale.”
“Well, then, I guess we’d better keep looking for her.” I lean against the doorjamb, feeling the cold air encroaching on us again.
The muscles along the sides of Jules’ jaw twitch, as lightning snakes across the front bay windows. Then, without warning, the air hits Jules in the back, tossing her forward into my arms. I instinctively catch her as thunder strikes and it appears she’s leapt into my arms because of it, but it’s actually the ghost at play. He’s tossed her into my arms.
“What was that?” Jules cranks around looking very distressed.
“I dunno for sure.” I shake my head. “But you better stay close.”
She clings to my chest. No argument there.
Lightning strikes again and thunder crashes. “She’s an angry one and she’s close.”
“Ridiculously angry,” Jules adds.
“Is this a typical Maritime thing?”
“No,” she snaps, trembling. “I don’t remember rain even being in the forecast!”
Another crash of thunder and she scowls, looking deeply troubled. It sounds like it’s hitting right outside the door. “You’re right.” Jules’ eyes look like they’re about to pop from her head. She talks a mile a minute. “Anna must have left. Otherwise, we’d have seen her jeep. She can’t be here, or she’d answer me. We should go.” “She whirls around, ready to bolt from the building, and I catch her by the waist.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” I say into her ear, pulling her to me, her feet still kicking. “No sudden movements, my friend. Besides, we can’t go out there right now in the middle of all this.” I look again to the lightning streaking the panes of the windows, like fireworks now. Every window of the house is affected, illuminating in rapid sequence. Thunder booms all around us, shaking the rickety old structure.
“Well, we can’t very well stay here.” Jules glowers into my eyes, as I lower her to the floor. “I’ll take my chances.” She turns, about to bolt again, and a particularly loud crash of thunder sends her screaming back into my arms.
“I think it’s best if we let things die down out there a bit.”
“I think you’re right.” She buries her face in my chest. Her skin is warm and soft in contrast to the cold air around us, closing in tighter with every moment.
Jules looks up as lightning slashes the windows again. She lets out a small shriek and digs her nails into my chest.
“It’s only a storm,” I say, trying to comfort her.
“I don’t think so,” she gasps. The lights above the staircase flash on and off again. A strong crack of thunder hits, driving a gasping Jules to crawl the fronts of my shins. “Okay, look,” she says, breathlessly, fearfully, staring up into my face. “There’s something I should have told you. This place is haunted, okay?” Her words come out fast and slightly garbled, her voice trembling as hard as her hands. “I probably should have told you that on the drive up here, but Anna said she really needed the sale, and there was the possibly of her winning the trip to Hawaii to consider and—”
“I know.” I gaze down at her.
“You know about the trip to Hawaii?”
“No.” I laugh. “I know about the house.”
“You do? And you came to look at it anyway?” Jules scowls. Her voice cracks.
“Call me crazy—”
“Evidently!”
“And you’re a very good friend, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Thunder crashes again and she snuggles close. The cold air presses us even closer.
“I’m… ah…” I start, feeling as though I owe her some sort of explanation. I can’t tell her all of it, but I should tell her something. “I sort of fancy myself a bit of a paranormal sleuth,” falls out of my mouth. It’s not completely the truth, but it’ll have to do for now. I feel guilty lying to her, but I swear when this is all over, I’ll tell her the truth.
“So, like a ghostbuster wannabe, is that it?” Jules pulls back, her voice nearly shrieking.
“Something like that—”
“You knew this could happen, and you dragged me up here?”
“No!” I frown. “I—I had no idea this would happen.” I run a flustered hand through my hair. What does she think I am, a monster?
“Unbelievable.” She drops her hands from my chest. “I knew this was too good to be true.”
“What was?”
“Never mind.” She turns her back to me.
“Look, i-if it’s any consolation, this is not what you think.” I move closer. “It’s not voluntary. I have a gift or something. I—I see things—”I stammer, trying to explain the unexplainable.
“Omigawd, you see dead people?” She melts away from me.
“No, no—not like that. Well, sort of—”
She glares back at me, panicked.
“Okay, no, that’s not it.” I put up a hand. “No, that’s exactly it.” Jules gulps. “But only sometimes, and especially when they’re related to me—”
“Fantastic. So, what? You know the guy that haunts this place?”
“In a roundabout way, yes.”
The wind picks up, throwing the chimes that hang on the porch outside sideways into the wall, causing both our heads to snap around. A second gust of wind drives the chimes into the door and Jules back into my arms. The cold air intensifies, engulfing us like a blanket.
“It’s a long story,” I whisper in her ear. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime over a beer—”
“I don’t drink beer.”
“Okay, fine, what do you like? Wine?”
“Moscato.”
Another resounding crack.
Jules screams. “I have to get out of here!”
“No, wait!” I reel her back when she tries to run again, catching a flash of green glowing light out of the corner of my eye. I pull her even closer than before.
“So, let me get this straight,” she clings, her breath jagged. “You make a living by talking to dead people?”
“No, not usually.” Gawd, I hate lying to her.
“But that’s why you’ve come to the Cove. To talk to a dead person.”
“One in particular, yes.”
“Why is that?” She glares up at me.
“Well, I was hoping this could wait till our second date, but, okay …” I glance briefly at the floorboards then back up into her eyes. “I came to talk to a ghost about my heritage. I’m hoping to find out exactly who I am.”
Thunder cracks so loud it drowns me out. I’m not sure that she’s heard me.
“And this ghost, he’s here, now?” Jules voice wobbles.
“I dunno for sure.” I glance around.
Thunder booms and lightning flecks like a light show. Hinges creak, and both our faces snap around and stare at the door, gape-mouthed and terrified, as it grates slowly open, revealing the raging storm outside. Wind howls within. The door gasps open and closed.
“I think it wants us to go.” Jules swallows as lightning wildly stripes the sky.
“I think you might be right.” A blast of thunder shakes the floorboards, and I grab her hand and step forward, as the door slams furiously shut, and the lock falls with a clunk. Jules’ body shakes at the end of my arm. “What do we do now?”
Author Bio:
Jacquie Gee is the alias of Jacqueline Garlick. Maybe you’ve read her?
We are one and the same. Two faces of one author with very different writing styles. That way, I keep readers happy by keeping my writing passions separated.
On a personal note, I love to talk… strange for a writer, I know, but I do. I’m told I can be pretty funny, though, my kids see things in a different light. I love to write romances with a strong, sassy, heroines, and scrumptiously, gorgeous leading men. I write sweet romance surrounded by chocolate and an overweight sheltie. Neither of which are related. And there are always with fresh flowers in the room. Raised in a small town in the country myself, I like writing about them best. I mean, who doesn’t love a small-town? Enough about me, what about you?
Drop me a line and let’s get to know each other.
jacqueline@jacquelinegarlick.com I love to hear from readers!
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