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The Quarryman’s Girl Virtual Book Tour

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Fiction (General, Literary, Women’s, Historical)

Date Published: 07-21-2022

Publisher: Mountain Lake Press

 

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Life is winding down for French Canadian immigrant Rose Dowd. She
isn’t fighting the flow until Fate forces her to gear up for yet
another chapter. Much like her adopted country, as it stakes out a new
international role in World War II, Rose must reinvent herself. Quickly.
Before she can move forward, however, she needs to absorb lessons from her
past, by channeling her former persona as the spunky Quarryman’s girl,
by reexamining her culture shock and parental abandonment, and by mending a
long-standing rift with her sister Isabelle.

Integral to Rose’s journey are her sharp-tongued sister Izzy; her
perpetually worried son Vince, a resourceful shipyard worker; her long dead
Métis mentor Mère Agathe; her bright and bubbly, but sickly
granddaughter Netty; and Nate, “The Ragman’s Grandson,” a
club-footed, pre-law student dreading his future. Follow these unforgettable
characters from the 1880s to the 1940s, Travel from the hard-scrabble pig
farms of Quebec to the granite quarries of Quincy (Massachusetts); from the
frozen St. Lawrence River to the deep-channel Fore River, launching pad for
some of World War II’s most famous warships.

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EXCERPT

In her dream she was back in Quebec. Not at the farm, but in a forest clearing, in mid-winter. Although the snow was hip deep, Rose recognized the clearing. Mère Agathe had taken her there many times, in spring, summer, and fall, to gather herbs to heal and mushrooms and roots to eat. It was a magical place.

Turning full circle at the center of the clearing, Rose could see nothing but hemlock, tamarack, and jack pine. If she lay on her back, the tops of all those giant conifers would converge in one perfect point. Staring at the dark green wall encircling her, she felt so small. Not because she was a child. Because she was a mere human. A mere human, all alone in the northern wilderness. Her sense of awe gradually faded, to be replaced by washes of panic. Her heart began skipping beats. A pulse throbbed inside her upper abdomen. Nausea restricted her throat. Her breathing became shallow…

Her peripheral vision picked up a quiver in the drooping, snow-encrusted hemlock branches to her right. The quiver grew to a tremble, then a convulsion, as a figure emerged from the green wall. 

Jésus, Marie, Joseph!” Rose exclaimed. She relaxed a little—but only a little—when she recognized Mère Agathe, swathed in a woolen blanket whiter than the snow.

A bony index finger emerged from the blanket and wagged at Rose. “Hard times coming, little one. And you not ready, eh? High time you get ready, no?”

 

 

About the Author

Melanie Forde

Melanie Forde grew up hearing fanciful tales about her voyageur forefathers
swaggering through 17th century Quebec, while her Métis foremothers
parsed the mysteries of the natural world. It was only a matter of time
before she mined those memories for a novel. It was high time that she set
her characters in the gritty hometown that started her own journey: Quincy,
Massachusetts. She’d like to think she inherited some of the earlier
generations’ resilience, joie de vivre and attunement with Mother
Nature. She credits both her French Canadian and Irish ancestors with the
storytelling gene that inspired four previous, character-driven novels.
Although she now lives in the Virginia mountains, far from both Quebec and
Quincy, she sometimes hears ghostly sled dogs howling softly amid the
moonshadows that dapple the snow.

 

Also by Melanie Forde:

• Hillwilla

• On the Hillwilla Road

• Reinventing Hillwilla

• Decanted Truths

 

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Deadeye Teaser Tuesday

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Bones MC, Book 13

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Action & Adventure

Date Published: 11/04/2022

 

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 Chloe — Manipulative on the best of days, my mother hooked up with
the president of a powerful MC. When he retired, she decided to give me to a
man I’ve never met. Guess she thought she’d  still be able
to keep her status if I became the ol’lady of the new president. I
have no idea what the men in the club are like and I’m not judging,
but they wear the 1% patch and I know enough about MCs to know that
can’t be good for a girl like me.

 

Deadeye – I’m a patient man. Pride myself on that. So when I
find a girl camping out under a rock watching the club, I camp out to watch
her. The more I watch, the more I like what I see. Before I can make her
mine, though, I need to find out why she’s here. No one’s more
surprised than me when she tells me who her daddy is. Except maybe her
daddy. Now I’m pitted against one of my own brothers. But the more I
get to know the spunky little minx, the more I want her. And the more I
realize I may have to kill my own MC brother and tear apart a rival MC
looking for the woman meant to be their new president’s
ol’lady.

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2022 Marteeka Karland

 

Chloe

I was tired. So fucking tired. I’d only been on the run for five
days, but it was five days of backwoods hell. Finding the place I needed to
get to had been hard enough. Actually getting there without anyone seeing me
had been a feat like I’d never undertaken before. Still don’t
know how I managed it without getting hopelessly lost. But here I was.

The name of the club was Bones MC, Somerset, Kentucky. I’d walked all
the way from Jeffersonville, Indiana to find this place. Compared to the
club I’d come from this one was relatively small. But from what
I’d learned, they were very close-knit and incredibly dangerous.

I was currently hiding under a rock overhang just tall enough for me to lie
flat on my belly and watch the place. I’d covered myself with leaves
and sticks, camouflaging my hiding spot as best I could. So far, no one had
spotted me. If they had, they hadn’t busted me yet. I should have just
gone into the clubhouse, but I wanted to scout the place out first. If there
seemed to be too much shady shit going down, I’d just move on without
wasting my time. Or putting myself in a worse position than I’d been
in when I ran.

So far, there had been parties that got pretty loud and wild, similar to
what I’d seen at Iron Tzars MC. The guys at Bones partied hard, but
they worked hard, too. Beyond the large clubhouse was a neighborhood. There
were what looked like high-end, double-wide mobile homes, but also a
smattering of houses, with more going up. The two days I’d been hiding
out, I’d seen several of the club members working throughout the day.
If there were drug deals or arms sales going down, it wasn’t anywhere
near their compound. There were women all over the place, but none of them
seemed to be there against their will.

The weather was turning. Autumn rain was coming, if the sky was any
indication. It was cold and damp, and I had no desire to spend another night
under a rock. If I’d judged this place wrong, I was in trouble. Of
course, if I didn’t get some decent shelter soon, I’d still be
in trouble. I’d heard good things about this club in the community.
They might not be law-abiding citizens, but they weren’t so bad they
were feared by the whole city. I was counting on the reputation they’d
apparently worked hard to build. If Bones turned out to be a wolf in
sheep’s clothing, I was fucked, because I had nowhere else to go. And
the one man I needed to see here, the one man who could help me in a way I
could live with, had no idea I even existed.

Knowing there was nothing else I could find out without getting inside the
place, I decided to quit being a pussy and stop stalling. I stood, looking
down at my clothes. Having been outside under a rock for the better part of
two days, I was filthy. Probably stank too. There was a creek just below my
hiding place on the other side of the hill between me and the compound. I
could wash there and change my clothes before trying to get inside. If I was
lucky, they’d stop me at the gate and take me straight to the man I
needed to see. I could only hope he remembered my mother. If not, I was
probably screwed.

The wind had started to pick up, and there was a cold bite to it. I knew I
needed to hurry, but not bathing and changing clothes simply wasn’t an
option. If I came to their doorstep looking like a hobo, I was afraid no one
would take me seriously. Or, worse, tell me to get the fuck on before they
got rid of me.

I stripped, tossing my filthy, damp clothing to the ground. I kept the
long-sleeved T-shirt to use as a washcloth, so I didn’t have to
actually get in the creek. While it was still warm most days, the nights in
this part of Kentucky were chilly this time of year. Shallow water, like the
lazy stream here, had started to cool, making this bath seriously
uncomfortable.

I’d never done this before. Bathed out in the open. In fact, though
I’d lived in an MC for most of my life, roughing it wasn’t
exactly in my repertoire. I’d never been camping. Or hunting.
I’d been fishing occasionally but usually on a boat or a dock at the
lake. All I’d had to eat the last five days were some snacks I’d
managed to sneak out and a couple bottles of water I refilled every chance I
got. Now, I was cold, dirty, hungry, and so fucking tired I just wanted to
sleep for a fucking week.

“Well, now. What do we have here?” The lazy drawl made me jump
and cry out. I tripped and landed on my ass, my naked body on full display.
The guy smirked as he looked down at me, his big arms crossed over a
powerful-looking chest. His shoulders were wide, stretching the fabric of
his Henley, as did his biceps. He had a full beard reaching about halfway
down his chest. Cold, assessing blue eyes were fixed squarely on me.

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The Continuing Adventures of Laurel Palmer Virtual Book Tour

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 Paranormal Romance/Fiction

Date Published: October 20, 2022

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

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 Is there love after death? Laurel Palmer is about to find out. Thanks to a
little shove by her husband, Laurel wakes up dead. And there’s no sign
of that white light people are supposed to go into. Now a ghost stuck on
earth, Laurel is determined to find out how she can get into heaven. On her
search for the light, Laurel meets Teddy Rule, a hunk of a ghost who
coincidentally was also murdered by her husband. Turns out, he didn’t
get that light either. As they work together to figure out what’s keeping
them on this earthly plane, feelings develop. Not knowing if heaven will
separate them, they must decide whether or not to cross over.

The Continuing Adventures of Laurel Palmer tablet

EXCERPT

When I woke up, I was dead. It took a minute to sink in.

When it did, I sat up, immediately shooting toward the ceiling twenty feet above the first-floor landing. Confused, I looked down and saw myself, or what used to be myself, sprawled at the foot of the stairs. I waved my arms, wondering if that’s how I would need to propel myself in my current insubstantial form.

Actually, it only took thinking to be able to float down, where I hovered a few feet above the empty shell that used to be me, Laurel Palmer. I examined the still figure critically. I had been beautiful, hadn’t I?

My body was lying there picturesquely, almost gracefully, face up, large brown eyes wide in shock, long sable hair spread around my head like a dark halo. Or I could have pulled that off if my arms and legs weren’t bent at strange angles, and a crimson liquid wasn’t pooling on the hardwood floor, with strands of that sable hair soaking in it, and my normal olive complexion wasn’t unusually pasty, with maybe a little gray creeping in.

Floating, both physically and emotionally, I smothered a sob as I scrutinized the body on the floor, fighting to control my skyrocketing anxiety. I had no lingering connection to said body after all, so I should’ve been able to watch it dispassionately. As if. Hand over my mouth, I waited to see if it did anything. Like breathe. I gave a soft, choking laugh. Not likely, since I was here, and I would have been there if any life remained in the corpse.

I settled onto a step a few up from the body previously known as Laurel Palmer, rested my elbows on my knees, and pondered the meaning of life. Being dead and still here, I mean.

A flash of color caught my eye. Glancing down, I noticed a broken fingernail resting on the step beside me, the ragged edge a shredded mess. Torn off, perhaps, as I grabbed for the railing while plummeting down the stairs? I spent a lot of money on those mani-pedis, recently changing the color used on my nails to a light sky blue, a color that perfectly complemented the blue hues in my filmy organza dress. Fearfully, I held up my hand to inspect the damage, and felt a brief joy at seeing that all my manicured fingernails were attached.

I was still wearing the clothes I’d died in. No wispy, billowing shift like you might see on an angel in a movie, thank God. I’d chosen my outfit well, not knowing I would be wearing it for eternity. My designer dress and shoes brought a fleeting smile to my face.

Something nagged at my brain, but for the life of me, or make that the death of me, I couldn’t remember what it might be. I was suddenly so witty. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anyone around to appreciate it.

A worried thought hit me. Where was my husband? Why wasn’t he here sobbing over my body and calling 911?

I tapped a finger on my lips. It wasn’t like me to be clumsy. I’d never missed a step or stumbled on the stairs, despite hundreds of trips up and down. Never once. Before I could contemplate that further, I heard rustling and thumping sounds coming from the second floor. Curious, I floated up the steps and followed the sound to my open bedroom door, where I spotted my husband, Ethan, searching through my underwear drawer, flinging Natori and La Perla over his shoulder and muttering to himself, “Where the hell did she put it?”

What had he done to our beautiful bedroom? The dresser drawers and armoire doors stood open, contents strewn all over the floor or tossed onto my carefully made king-size bed. A passing thought crossed my mind that he never knew how to find anything in the house, unless it was the TV remote or the expensive bottles of Scotch reverently stored in the liquor cabinet in the butler’s pantry.

Narrowing my eyes, I had two thoughts. What was he looking for and, more importantly, why didn’t he care that his wife was sprawled dead at the bottom of the stairs?

Unless…

Yes, it was possible Ethan had pushed me.

About the Author

 

Pamela McCord

Pam got a late start in writing but has made up for it with several
published novels and a few more on the way. A serendipitous conversation
with a writer friend launched her literary career, and the fact that she
might never have had that particular conversation is enough to make her
believe that fate played a hand in sending her down the path to becoming an
author. All four of her published books have won the Mom’s Choice
Award Gold Seal, and the first book in her Pekin Dewlap Mystery series was
the winner of the American Book Fest Children’s Fiction Award.
She’s lived in Southern California most of her life and is thankful to
have a loving family and supportive friends. Spending time at home during
the COVID pandemic advanced both Pam’s writing and her relationship with her
My Cat From Hell TV star, Allie, who manages to exude just enough affection
to make her scary feral ways tolerable.

 

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Instagram: @PamelaMcCordAuthor

 

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Two if By Sea Blitz

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Suspense / Thriller

Date Published: September 14, 2022

Publisher: Mindstir Media

 

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A wave of gruesome executions in Shanghai cripples a top-secret CIA
operation in China and points to an informant who has been selling secrets
in Hong Kong. Jim Keenan, a handsome and ambitious prodigy at the CIA meets
Laura Bowman, a brilliant and alluring rising star inside the FBI’s
Counterintelligence Division. Together they set out to capture the informant
and are shocked to discover an Al-Qaeda plot against the United States
involving stolen nuclear weapons. An unlikely source divulges China’s
involvement in the plot, and in a frantic race against time, Agents Keenan
and Bowman must unearth what Beijing knows before it’s too late. Two if By
Sea is an electrifying international spy thriller that will leave the reader
intoxicated and asking for more.

About the Author

Peter Levesque

Peter Levesque is an international supply chain expert and author with more
than thirty years of experience living and working in the Asia Pacific
Region. He is the past Chairman of the American Chamber of Commerce in Hong
Kong and currently serves on the Board of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce in
Washington, D.C. Levesque is the author of The Shipping Point, The Rise of
China, and the Future of Retail Supply Chain Management, and has been
featured on CNBC, BBC, Bloomberg, the New York Times, and the Wall Street
Journal. He resides in South Florida and Cape Cod, Massachusetts, with his
wife, Lisa, and their three children. 

 

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Kill Them With Canvas Virtual Book Tour

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Paint by Murder Mystery #2

Cozy Mystery

Date Published: 10-11-2022

Publisher: Crooked Lane Books

 

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In Bailee Abbott’s second book in the Paint by Murder mysteries,
Chloe and Izzie are taking their paint party business on the road—with
murder as the first stop!

Chloe Abbington and her sister, Izzie, are enjoying huge success running
Paint with a View, their paint party business in the tranquil western New
York lakeside town of Whisper Cove. Now, their aunt
Constance—president of the local chapter of the Chautauqua
Sisterhood—has hooked them up with a gig hosting a Halloween painting
party. The guests will be painting a local ghost legend, the Lady of
Chautauqua Lake, who died a hundred years earlier and rises from the lake
every October to haunt anyone who dares venture out on All Hallows’
Eve.

The event seems to be going off without a hitch, until Chloe overhears an
argument between Constance and Viola Finnwinkle, the Sisterhood director,
about the fate of the local chapter. Both women leave and the sisters finish
their painting. But the next morning, Viola’s body is discovered
floating face down near the town ferryboat dock, her long red hair spread
around her. Eerily, the image is an exact replica of a painting Chloe and
Izzie had discovered at the event the night before.

What’s more, the police find Constance’s purple knit hat lying
on the ground near the crime scene. Constance pleads innocence, saying the
hat mysteriously went missing during the event. Frantic that she might be
charged with murder, she begs Chloe and Izzie to help her. The sisters
believe their aunt is innocent, but if so, who’s the real
killer—and when will the next victim turn up?

 

Kill Them With Canvas paperback

 EXCERPT

As we stepped up on the deck, Dewey was drying his damp face and hair with a towel. The sandy blond curls sprang out like corkscrews when he shook his head. He rubbed his face with one hand and leaned over to peer at the lake water again, as if he hadn’t noticed or heard us.

Izzie whistled. “Earth to Dewey. Are you running the ferry across the lake this morning anytime soon?” 

Dewey gasped and sprang to attention. His hand and fingers splayed across his chest. “About to give me heart failure, you did.” His gaze flitted sideways for an instant and straight again to us. “You want to take the ferry?”

“Uh, that’s what we’re here for, and I expect you’re here to take us.” Izzie planted both fists on her hips. “What do you keep staring at, Dewey Sawyer? Your face looks pale and almost white.” Izzie inched closer to him.

I walked alongside her. With a frown puckering my brow, I squinted. “And your hands are shaking like you overdosed on caffeine. Are you on that diet again? The one where you eat next to nothing? I remember last time you ended up in the hospital eating your meals through a tube. Not a smart thing to repeat.” I shook my head. Dewey was as thin as the stem of a rigger paint brush. He couldn’t afford to lose any weight. 

As we came to within a few feet of him, Dewey backed away from the edge of the deck and sobbed. I turned for a second. He stuffed his fist in his mouth, and his eyes bulged as if they could pop out of their sockets at any second. Something had upset him, which wasn’t so unusual. Everyone in town knew he was prone to hysterical episodes.

Puzzled and curious, I shifted my attention from Dewey to the lake water. I leaned over, searching exactly at the spot where he had been looking a moment ago. My insides lurched like they’d turn inside out, and I clutched my stomach with both hands. “Good lord.” I strained to speak. 

Izzie gripped my shoulder and let go of a low, feeble cry. “Is that really…is she…?” 

Even though my brain told me to look away, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the horrible sight. A body was floating face down in the water near the shore, a woman with long red hair, spreading like tentacles around her head. Her blue wool coat was snagged on a huge tree trunk that had landed in the lake and been left there after lightning struck it down in a summer storm. An inch or two of her red dress showed along with the bottom half of her legs that had turned white and wrinkly. This image was almost exactly like in the painting we’d found left behind at the lodge, only this scene was terrifyingly real. Viola Finnwinkle was dead, and she’d been left floating in Chautauqua Lake. As if my mind finally caught up to what happened, I fumbled in my pocket to pull out the knit hat. I gasped as the hint of what it could likely mean hit me. The knit hat with a narrow brim was purple, and it looked exactly like the one Aunt Constance had been wearing to our event. 

 

 

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About the Author 

Bailee Abbott

Bailee Abbott is a native Ohioan who spends her days plotting murder and
writing mysteries. She’s a member of Sisters in Crime as well as of
International Thriller Writers. Bailee lives with her husband and furry
friend Max in the quiet suburbs of Green, Ohio. Bailee also writes the
Sierra Pines B&B mystery series under the name Kathryn Long.

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