The Acadian Secret by Tammy Lowe blitz with giveaway
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The Acadian Secret
Tammy Lowe
(The Acadian Secret, #1)
Published by: The Wild Rose Press
Publication date: August 10th 2022
Genres: Action, Adventure, Time-Travel, Young Adult
Nova Scotia has kept an incredible secret for centuries. In 1795, sixteen-year-old John Smith, convinced he’s found buried treasure, digs down into a mysterious pit on a small island.
In present day Nova Scotia, twelve-year-old Elisabeth London knows there’s no such thing as magic, but when she finds herself in 17th century Scotland, she no longer knows what to think. While under the guardianship of a kind-hearted Highlander, Elisabeth discovers his ancestral home holds a mystery of its own.
As John continues to dig the strange pit, he inadvertently begins the longest running, most expensive, and deadliest treasure hunt in history. Now, Elisabeth London and John Smith each try to unravel the secrets consuming them, unaware that a tormented young man holds the string weaving all of their lives together.
For Elisabeth, the adventure is just beginning. Unless her parents discover she’s time-travelling. Then…she is so grounded.
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EXCERPT:
As the evening sun wandered behind the mountains, it cast an emerald glow across a glen. The valley was dotted with boulders, rocks, and drifts of bright yellow flowering bushes that blanketed the rolling hills, perfuming the air with a coconut scent. A small river twisted its way toward a distant forest. Overhead, a hawk screeched while soaring across an endless blue sky, declaring its vast territory to other hawks.
A dog yelped, over and over and over again.
Awakened by the barking, Elisabeth’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Her chest tightened as she sat up. “What the—?”
A huge, hairy boar, with razor-sharp tusks, lunged into the nearby brambles.
With a gasp, Elisabeth scrambled behind a large rock. Her breath hitched as her mind raced to make sense of the surrounding scenery.
That’s when a hunter, with a short beard and wild black hair that gave him a crazed look, came galloping over the crest of a hill on horseback. “Good boy, Talbot,” he yelled when the dog
lunged into the brambles after the wild pig. The angry grunts of the boar filtered through the thick shrub.
Elisabeth leaped back, ducking low to hide behind the boulder. One hand pressed tight across her mouth.
The clip-clop stomping of the horse’s hooves sounded closer. Then, the hunter’s voice rose in pitch as his piercing blue-green eyes stared down at her, crouched in the heather. “What the devil…?”
A cold chill ran up her spine when he dismounted. His head cocked slightly to the side, and she realized his hearing focused on the dog and the boar as he drew closer.
Bending to peer at her, the hunter scratched his cheek. “You all right, lass?”
Elisabeth’s muscles tightened and she drew her head back sharply. “Yep. Fine.”
“Then…what are ye doing out here?” he asked in an uncertain tone while helping her to her feet. “Dressed in naught but…that?”
Elisabeth’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Well, you’re lucky I found you before—” The silence in the valley now broken, Talbot howled, the boar squealed, and Elisabeth backed away with quick, jerky steps.
“Dinnae move, lass,” he ordered in a steady, low-pitched voice while reaching for his dagger.
Elisabeth gasped for air, watching the enraged boar desert its hiding spot in the brambles and charge toward the dog, its lethal tusks ready to kill.
Talbot seemed well-trained so, instead of turning tail and running, he danced backward, facing the pig, luring it away from his master. With the boar now in pursuit of the dog, the hunter ran at the beast as if he were a wild animal himself. Jumping on the boar from behind, he grabbed its ear, yanked its head up, and slashed its throat.
Elisabeth’s heart pounded, and she gripped the sides of her head.
The hunter jumped off the boar as it fell limp at his feet and cleaned the blade on the carcass before putting it away. He then walked toward Elisabeth, his bloody hands held in front of him.
“You’ve got a knife.” Elisabeth whimpered as her gaze darted from the enormous man dressed in a skirt to the ragtag group of hunters who came cantering over the crest of the hill.
“Aye, and a sword.” He smirked while pointing at it. “I’m not going to harm you, though. I’m hunting.”
“Hunting what? Little girls?” Not waiting for an answer, she bolted, heading for the distant forest.
The hunter took a step back and chuckled as Elisabeth made her great escape in slow motion, hindered terribly by bare feet.
“You’re completely mad!” he shouted while mounting his horse, motioning to the arriving men to deal with the boar carcass.
The black warhorse was as large and intimidating as the hunter and the animal’s powerful legs kicked up tall grass and thistles as it galloped along. The sound of its hooves seemed amplified as it neared Elisabeth.
Without needing to slow his horse, he reached down, scooped Elisabeth into his arms, and placed her in the saddle in front of him. She let out a sharp scream.
“There. Now be a good lass. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. You’re on my land so I know you’re not from these parts. I cannot leave you alone out here. It’s not safe and will soon be dark.”
A wave of coldness caused Elisabeth to tremble. She had no idea where she was and no recollection of arriving. When the hunter wrapped her in his plaid and nudged his horse on, Elisabeth’s shoulders tightened. She remained silent, bringing a shaky hand to her forehead while trying to figure out what the heck was going on. This definitely wasn’t Mahone Bay anymore.
Author Bio:
An adventurer at heart, Tammy has explored ruins in Rome, Pompeii, and Istanbul (Constantinople) with historians and archaeologists.
She’s slept in the tower of a 15th century castle in Scotland, climbed down the cramped tunnels of Egyptian pyramids, scaled the Sydney Harbour Bridge, sailed on a tiny raft down the Yulong River in rural China, dined at a Bedouin camp in the Arabian Desert, and escaped from head-hunters in the South Pacific.
I suppose one could say her own childhood wish of time traveling adventures came true…in a roundabout way.
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Jester by Brielle D. Porter blitz with giveaway
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Jester
Brielle D. Porter
Publication date: August 9th 2022
Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult
What happens in Oasis, stays in Oasis.
Lisette’s father killed the King. His execution leaves Lisette alone, disgraced, and without the magic he intended to pass on to her. In Oasis, that’s a problem. Glutted with enchanted performers, Oasis is a sin city where courtiers pay in gold to drink, gamble, and above all, be entertained. To survive on its competitive streets, Lisette peddles paltry illusions in place of magic.
Desperate to prove herself, Lisette enters into a deadly competition to be chosen as the highest-ranked magician in the world, the Queen’s Jester. But her rival, the irritatingly handsome Luc, possesses the one thing Lisette does not—real magic. Lisette will do anything to win, but when evidence implicating the Queen in her husband’s murder surfaces, Lisette must choose between redeeming her family name, or seizing the fame she’s hungered for her entire life.
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EXCERPT:
A group of tourists has gathered to watch me throw knives at a shopboy. They’ve come here for magic; I’ve kept them here with misdirection and lies. Maybe it’s not magic exactly, but it is undeniably entertaining watching my unwilling assistant flinch every time the knife point gets too close to his groin.
I hold the knife steady, aiming, watching his limp hair flop as the wooden wheel he’s strapped to slowly rotates.
Stefan lets out a whimper, and I toss him a smile. He was a lot braver in the shop where I’d found him, flirting as he bagged my books. It hadn’t been hard to trick him into volunteering.
The crowd jeers.
“Aim lower!”
“Aim higher! Maim his ugly face!”
“Throw three at once!”
“Mirage, don’t you dare!” Stefan shouts.
The nighttime crowd is always hungrier for violence. I hold up my hands placatingly.
“Obviously, I can’t throw three knives at once. That would be dangerous and highly irresponsible…”
There are a couple of groans, but my reputation must precede me, because there are a few whoops and chuckles thrown in as well. With a sweep, I pull my deadliest knife from my belt, the one with the wicked serrated edge, brandishing it for the crowd.
“But I think we can spice things up a bit!”
I stab the knife into a vat of oil, the shimmering liquid sliding down the tang of the blade. Then, with a flourish, I sweep it through a nearby torch. Flame devours the knife. The crowd roars its approval. Stefan pales.
The hilt burns in my hand, throwing off sparks, as I wonder if perhaps I’ve gone too far. I’ve only tried this a few times. And the jackrabbit I had caught to practice with wasn’t even good to eat after, blackened to an inedible crisp.
Either way, I’ll give them a show.
Author Bio:
Brielle D. Porter decided to become a writer after a well-meaning elementary school teacher told her she had a gift for it. Stolen moments under the covers reading anything from Harry Potter to William Goldman solidified the desire to tell stories herself one day. Jester is her debut novel.
Brielle lives with her husband and three sons on a lavender farm in Northern Idaho. When she’s not writing, she can be found running and beekeeping. Only ask her about her hobbies if you have plenty of time to spare.
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A Foster Fling Romance Anthology blitz with giveaway
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A Foster Fling Anthology
Publication date: September 10th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Seven families.
Seven forbidden trysts.
Seven decadent romances.
Get lost in the streets of Urban Decay where moral lines are crossed.
Where The Tower looms in the distance, and the Destructive Harbor is just beyond the shore.
Hidden in the Depravity of the Dark, Bury Me Alive as we crawl Under the Skin of right and wrong. And remember, If I Can’t Have You, then no one will.
In this system, the family rules are blurred, and lines are crossed.
A Foster Fling is a limited-edition romance anthology collection from USA Today and Bestselling Authors.
—
SNEAK PEEKS:
If I Can’t Have You – Jordain Knolls
I don’t remember much about the kid but I remember the way he looked at me once we were alone. The air shifted, like the oxygen suddenly disappeared. My breath was caught in my throat. I felt like I was on fire, and I knew it wasn’t the liquor anymore making me feel this way
I swallowed hard, trying my fucking hardest to stay calm. He stood from the bed, his gaze never leaving mine as he stalked toward me.
For fourteen, he was intimidating.
He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of my head. His gaze floated across every part of my face. Time was fucking frozen, but I was spiraling.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“Kissing you.” Before I could interject, his lips crashed down on mine.
I was done for. Melting into the bean bag chair as a wave of emotions crashed through me like an angry sea. So many thoughts were going through my head.
I’ve never kissed a boy before.
Why did I like it so much?
Where is Gabe?
Why is he kissing me?
But the main one stirring in my head was what is he going to do next?
I never got that answer.
I never would.
Because while he was kissing me, Gabe was in our dads office, loading a shot gun, putting it to his head, and pulling the trigger.
The rest of that night and so many months after were one giant blur and My life crashed and burned. I never saw that Forster kid again.
And every night since, I’ve spent my time dousing my pain with the Lords amber embrace.
—
Destructive Harbor – Ally Vance
When I picked up my latest foster daughter from the social services office, I found a young, woman who was little more than a shell veiled with defiance. It called to my protective urges, and I knew I had to take her. The report I was given when they told me they had another foster child for me detailed a troubled past, the reason she was thrown into the system, along with the history of previous foster parents she’d had.
It’s a game of chance when someone enters the system, whether they’ll end up in a loving, nurturing home, or with someone who does it for the paycheck. I won’t deny that the money isn’t a nice bonus, but it’s more than that.
Ten years ago my wife passed away suddenly from a heart attack, taking with her our unborn child and leaving me with my young son and a half-empty heart. I had a lot of love and care to give, so I applied to become a carer for the unwanted and lost children who needed a safe harbor to reside in.
What I didn’t expect was how deeply I would come to care for her, or how wrongly I would feel. There are boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed, and all I want is to hurtle straight over them to the other side.
I’m supposed to be the one offering her safety, comfort, and the love of a surrogate parent, but all I want to do is take her in ways I shouldn’t even consider, that I shouldn’t be dreaming about.
The quiet, reserved girl is calling out to the darker side of me, creating a storm in the harbor I’ve spent years creating, threatening to destroy it. The darkness of her eyes, contrasting with her honey-colored hair and fair skin made her far more appealing than I had any right to find her.
All my life I’ve given everything in me to those I’ve taken care of, have loved. But when Robyn Wymer walked through the door to my home, with her shaking hand clutching mine, I had no idea what kind of storm was about to be unleashed, and what the lasting effects of that would be.
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Mr. Perfect on Paper by Jean Meltzer Blog Tour #bookreview #contemporary #romance #chicklit
**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**
Title: Mr. Perfect on Paper
Author: Jean Meltzer
Publisher: MIRA
Publication Date: August 9, 2022
Page Count: 387
My rating: 4 stars
About the book:
From the author of the buzzy THE MATZAH BALL, a pitch-perfect romcom about a matchmaker who finds her own search for love thrust into the spotlight after her bubbe outs her list for “The Perfect Jewish Husband” on live television.
Dara Rabinowitz knows a lot about love. As a third-generation schadchan, or matchmaker, she’s funneled her grandmother’s wisdom into the world’s most successful Jewish dating app, J-Mate. Yet, despite being the catalyst for countless Jewish marriages, Dara has never been successful at finding love. Oh, she’s got plenty of excuses—like running a three-hundred person technology company and visiting her beloved bubbe every day. But the real reason Dara hasn’t been on a date in three years is much simpler. Though she desperately wants to meet her bashert, and stand beneath the huppah, she is frozen by social anxiety.
All that single dad Chris Steadfast wants to do is give his daughter stability. But with the ratings for the TV news show he anchors in the gutter, and the network threatening cancellation, Chris’s career – like his life with Lacey in Manhattan — is on the chopping block.
When her bubbe outs Dara’s list for “The Perfect Jewish Husband” when they’re guests on Chris’s live show, Chris sees an opportunity to both find Dara her perfect match, and boost the ratings of his show. But finding Mr. Perfect on Paper may mean giving up on the charming—and totally not Jewish—reporter following Dara’s nationwide hunt…
Find this book online:
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Excerpt:
1
“Now,” Dara said, glancing down at her watch. “If you don’t mind, we’re on a tight schedule here. I need to get out of here before the coming of Moshiach.”
With that, the entire room jumped into action. Dara took a seat at her vanity. Bobbi laid out the makeup palettes, flipping on two nearby lights to mimic the high-intensity light-ing of a studio. Simi took the clip out of her hair, allowing Dara’s thick black corkscrews to fall free around her shoulders.
Naveah moved to the center of the room, by the built-in island that housed an impressive array of shoes, and began unzipping the plastic packaging. Hanging the outfits up on a mobile rack, she worked hard to carefully display each item.
“Okay, we have three looks for you to choose from this morning.”
Dara analyzed her choices. There was an elegant pleated skirt and tight cashmere sweater. It was Jewy, which went with her brand, but possibly too Jewish for a nationally syndicated televised event that needed to appeal to a broad audience. She glanced over to her next choice, a pair of smart silk pants and a floral blouse. Finally, there was the casual tech look. A pair of tight blue jeans, Converse sneakers and a Patagonia vest.
“Number two,” Dara said.
“Fabulous,” Naveah swooned, hanging it up on the room divider screen.
Dara stepped behind the screen, tossed off her robe and changed into the outfit. After a few moments, she returned to the center of the room, taking her usual place in front of the full-length mirror to analyze the final look.
The black silk pants, cinched at the ankles, gave her more curves than usual. The dramatic blouse, made from the most luxurious of fabrics, was imprinted with stunning large white orchids. It achieved the right type of look for her interview. Professional yet feminine. Assertive without feeling aggressive. It was all the things she needed to accomplish as a powerful female executive—often held to a different standard than her male counterparts.
“What do you think?” Naveah asked, looking over her shoulder.
“It’s perfect.”
Everyone applauded. Dara sat back down at the vanity. Simi ran her fingers through her curls, while the rest of her staff gathered round, peering down at her with tablets and makeup brushes in hand.
“And what’s the look we’re going for today?” Cameron asked.
“Professional,” Dara instructed.
“Got it,” Cameron said, moving to pick out a pair of maroon heels. “A pop of color to go with all that black and white!”
“And the hair?” Simi asked.
“Just put it up.” She smiled. “A stylish bun, nothing too sexy.”
Bobbi and Simi began working on her hair and makeup.
Meanwhile, Naveah pulled up a chair and turned on her tablet. “Now, I know you’re taking this afternoon off to be with your grandmother, so what do you need me to work on in your absence?”
“I sent you a list this morning.”
Naveah tapped on her screen. Moments later, she had the to-do list that Dara had sent her at four o’clock in the morning. “‘Grocery,’” Naveah said, reading the items aloud, “‘laundry, check with caterers for Yom Kippur breakfast, confirm travel for all executives attending October J-Mate sales conference, confirm all of Miriam’s oncology and radiation therapy appointments for September…’”
Dara was always making lists. Always trying to figure out how to turn her chaotic and extremely busy life into some-thing manageable and organized. In truth, her to-do lists, like her obsessive planning, helped her control her anxiety.
She was certain that her nonstop list-making drove every-one she worked with—including Naveah—straight-up meshugana. Janet had even once jokingly referred to Dara as the Good List Dybukk, a dislocated soul who appeared without warning and sprinkled to-dos on every person who crossed her path. Fortunately, as Dara paid her staff extremely well for their efforts, they kept the majority of their criticisms to themselves.
Dara heard the familiar refrain of an incoming Skype call. “Got it!” Naveah said, snapping at Cameron to grab Dara’s phone. “It’s Janet.”
Dara waved Simi away from her face. She asked everyone to give her a minute, and her entourage left the room. Dara waited for the door to shut firmly behind them before continuing.
“Good morning!” Janet beamed from her home office in Colorado.
“What time is it there?” Dara asked.
“Early.” Janet laughed. “You got the whole crew with you today, huh?”
“You know it,” Dara said, glancing at her half-done makeup in the mirror.
Just as Dara’s generalized anxiety disorder was well-known among those she worked with, so, too, was the fact that she genuinely despised all types of public appearances. Alas, that didn’t stop her from doing them. She had learned early on that selling herself on television, in interviews and on Instagram was a necessary evil. Everybody wanted a face, a real person to support, behind the brand. Over the years, Dara had de-vised all sorts of systems for handling her anxiety regarding these appearances.
“And how are you feeling this morning?” Janet asked, get-ting right to the point.
“Oh, you know me,” Dara said. “I’m only nervous for the three days before and the six days after…so in terms of the actual interview, I imagine it will go just fine.”
Janet laughed. “You’re going to do great, Dara.”
In truth, she always did great. She was a perfectionist, after all. She always had a plan and always said all the right things. She smiled in all the right places. She was never caught off guard, and therefore, never floundered. Though the glam squad and to-do lists may have seemed overkill to some, her obsessive-compulsive tendencies worked. Her business was thriving. Her reputation in tech, and the Jewish world, was flourishing, too.
“Like we already discussed,” Janet continued, “there shouldn’t be any surprises, okay? Everything has been worked out between our publicity people and their producers. You want to run through the script one more time?”
“No,” Dara said, firmly. “I got this.”
Janet nodded. “Then I hope you have a blast with your bubbe today.”
The camera shut off. Dara put her phone away, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had been ar-ranged into a sophisticated bun. Her angular features had been softened with light contouring. On the surface, she was the picture of poise and finesse. And yet, her hands were shaking.
She cracked her knuckles, took a sip of tea. She knew it was ridiculous, being this nervous about going on Good News New York, a show that nobody even watched…but she couldn’t help herself.
Dara watched it.
Religiously.
It was a habit of hers to keep the television running in the background while she worked. She liked the noise, the hum of familiar voices. It helped her anxiety. She especially liked the deliciously handsome head anchor of Good News, Christopher Steadfast, and the easygoing way he ended every episode with the words, “I’ll be waiting for you.”
Unfortunately, it had a weird time slot. Midafternoon, during the week, squeezed between the morning talk shows and the soap operas. Plus, it was an oddity in the world of live broadcasting in that it only focused on positive stories. Good news and human interest tales, like the two kids who donated proceeds of a lemonade stand to a homeless shelter, and Bucky, the vegan golden retriever.
Dara adored the segments on Bucky. She watched all of them, often on repeat, staying up late into the night, scrolling through all his reposted videos on the Good News New York Facebook fan page. In fact, the only reason she had even suggested going on Good News New York to begin with was for a chance at meeting the King of Aww himself. Though she was far too mired in her own busy schedule (and anxiety) to ever own a pet herself, she had adopted the quirky golden retriever in her heart.
As for Christopher Steadfast, it could never happen. And the reason it could never happen was right there in his name. Christopher Steadfast was not Jewish. As such, and thanks to a very clear rabbinic prohibition against interfaith marriage, she regarded the man the same way she would some beautiful non-Jewish Fabergé egg you passed by in a museum. Some-thing to gaze upon and admire…but never, ever touch.
She couldn’t believe she would be meeting him today. The dog, obviously.
Not the man.
She had no interest at all in some sexy Southern heartthrob with a voice that could melt schmaltz and the pectoral muscles of a Norse god.
Dara shook the thought away. Then, as her own ema, or mother, had taught her, she focused all her energy on dealing with practicalities.
She had Simi and Bobbi come back to the room, finish her hair and makeup. She did one final run-through of her sched-ule with Naveah. She had Cameron and Alexa double-check her bags at the front door, packing up her phone and tablet. Eventually, with well wishes and air kisses, Naveah and the entourage departed for the day. Normally, she would have someone from her staff accompany her to her events. But today, she wanted to focus on spending time with her grandmother.
Dara found herself alone in her apartment once more. She glanced down at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes left before she needed to head out to her bubbe’s. Fifteen minutes. It was a long time to sit around staring at the concrete walls of her apartment. Quiet was dangerous for Dara. It left her open to obsessing.
She moved to fill the space. She brushed her teeth again. Double-checked the bedroom, making sure the bed was made and everything was neat and tidy. She turned off her computer monitors and all the lights. She unplugged her coffee maker and double-checked the third bedroom for any hair straighteners or curling irons left plugged in. She made sure all the knobs on the oven were turned off, and that the patchouli candle was blown out. She pulled out her phone and snapped a photograph of both. Just in case her brain started obsessively worrying that she had left something on by mistake, and she was single-handedly responsible for burning down all of Hoboken.
Dara landed at the front door. Her eyes wandered down to her red high heels. She hated wearing heels in the city. Not for any practical reason, or because they gave her blisters. But because in case of emergency, the zombie apocalypse or an-other mass casualty event, she was worried about having to traverse sixty city blocks—or, God forbid, a bridge—to get back home.
She debated her options. She could pack her heels and wear sneakers for the commute, but that would require yet another bag for the simple day trip into Manhattan.
She hated that it had to be that way. That she couldn’t just be judged on who she was and what she created. Sadly, Dara was a realist. A huge part of her success in life had been understanding how the world works, and the way people inter-act with each other. Whether she agreed with it or not, first impressions were important. Like a shidduch sheet, or a profile on J-Mate, everybody went to the photo first.
Otherwise, she looked perfect. The house looked perfect, too. Perfection was the layer of armor she wore to protect her-self from the swings and swipes of an uncertain world.
She reminded herself of the positive. She was going to be spending the day with her beloved bubbe. They would be making important memories together. Necessary memories. Any anxiety she felt—any sense that something terrible was about to happen—was simply the neurons in her brain misfiring. Her feelings could not be trusted.
Forcing her shoulders back, and her chest upward, she projected confidence. And then, slinging her messenger bag over one arm, she grabbed that box of black-and-white cookies from the kitchen counter and headed out.
Excerpted from Mr. Perfect on Paper by Jean Meltzer, Copyright © 2022 by Jean Meltzer. Published by MIRA Books
Mr. Perfect on Paper by Jean Meltzer is a romantic comedy novel. The story in Mr. Perfect on Paper is one that is told by changing the point of view between the two main characters and is an opposites attract storyline.
Dara Rabinowitz is proud of her Jewish heritage and the fact that she is a Jewish matchmakers with hundreds of success stories with her app J-Mate. The only thing missing in Dara’s life is her own perfect Jewish match but she never expected her beloved bubbe to hijack her national television interview to share her perfect husband wishlist.
After the interview Dara struggles with her social anxiety expecting everyone to be laughing at the interview. Instead Dara is approached by the news anchor, Chris Steadfast, who wants to take Dara’s husband search public and set her up on televised dates but as Chris and Dara spend so much time together they find their friendship growing but Chris isn’t Jewish so how could Dara ever choose him?
Mr. Perfect on Paper by Jean Meltzer was definitely a fun read that had me laughing out loud but also pulled at my heartstrings having a flawed protagonist dealing with her anxiety. This one was also an eye opener into the Jewish community and their faith for someone on the outside like myself, I learned quite a bit following Dara and her grandmother which is never a bad thing. I also enjoyed the slow building of the romance that began as friendship first and really found myself rooting for a happy ending. Definitely an author I would like to read again sometime after finishing this lovely story.
I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.
About the author:
Author Jean Meltzer studied dramatic writing at NYU Tisch, and served as creative director at Tapestry International, garnering numerous awards for her work in television, including a daytime Emmy. Like her protagonist, Jean is also a chronically-ill and disabled Jewish woman. She is an outspoken advocate for ME/CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), has attended visibility actions in Washington DC, meeting with members of Senate and Congress to raise funds for ME/CFS. She inspires 9,000 followers on WW Connect to live their best life, come out of the chronic illness closet, and embrace the hashtag #chronicallyfabulous. Also, while she was raised in what would be considered a secular home, she grew up kosher and attended Hebrew School. She spent five years in Rabbinical School. She is the author of The Matzah Ball and Mr. Perfect on Paper.
Author Website / Facebook / Instagram / Goodreads
Cover Reveal: A Lust for Blood by K.C. Smith
**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**
How gorgeous is the cover for K.C. Smith’s debut novel, A Lust for Blood?! Read on for more info and pre-order a copy. There’s even a beautiful pre-order incentive!
A Lust for Blood (A Realm of Curses Novel)
Expected Publication Date: November 1st. 2022
Genre: Adult Dark Fantasy
Publisher: Phantom House Press
There is no escape when the monster is you
When Oriana awakens in a field of blood and bodies, she is devastated to realize the patchwork of death was caused by her own hand. A curse lingers in the air, and there is only one option to save herself from further bloodshed. Oriana uses her magic to create an enchanted forest imprisoning the monster responsible for the massacre–herself.
Garren has built a career around slaying demons. When he learns of a centuries old creature locked away in the strange Phantom Wood, the opportunity is too great. He will stop at nothing to destroy the demon filth that lurks in those shadows if only to satisfy his own haunting memories.
Oriana soon finds herself caught in a cat and mouse game, fighting to keep her identity secret. As the two grow closer, secrets unravel. But could they each be the answer the other has been searching for?
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Pre-Order on Amazon!
Pre-order a copy and you will receive a stunning art print. Proof of purchase must be sent to the author. You can email K.C. Smith at kcsmithauthor@gmail.com
About the Author
K.C. Smith is a writer of Adult Fantasy from Maryland where she lives with her husband and their chihuahua, Tank. Writing allows her to escape from her busy life as an Accountant and small business owner. When not writing or reading, she can be found rock climbing or traveling the world! A Lust for Blood is K.C.’s debut novel and will be releasing November 1, 2022!
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