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Mr. Dale and the Divorcée Blitz

 

Mr. Dale and the Divorcée cover

 

The Brazen Beauties, Book 1

Regency Romance, Historical Romance

 

Date Published: November 23, 2021

He’s a respectable barrister…

She’s the most scandalous woman in England…

Wilhelmina Hewitt knows she’s in for a rough ride when she agrees to help her husband get a divorce. Nothing, however, prepares her for the regret of meeting Mr. Dale on the eve of her downfall. No other man has ever sent her heart racing as he does. Unfortunately, while she’ll soon be free to engage in a new relationship, no upstanding gentleman will have her.

James Dale would never pursue another man’s wife. Or a woman reputed to be a deceitful adulteress. Furious with himself for letting the lovely Mrs. Hewitt charm him, he strives to keep his distance. But when her daughter elopes with his son, they’re forced into a partnership where passion ignites. And James soon wonders if there might be more to the divorcée than meets the eye.

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EXCERPT

 

Chapter One

London, 1818

It was horribly hard for Wilhelmina Hewitt to find the words she needed to start this discussion. But after all her husband, George, had done for her, she felt it her duty now to help him as best she could. Even if the subject she wished to broach would probably shock him.

Would you like a brandy?” he offered, the gentle sound of his voice conveying the warmth and consideration he’d always shown her.

Her resolve – the complete lack of nervousness she experienced in spite of her decision – surprised Wilhelmina. Instead of panic, an extraordinary sense of calm overcame her. She knew she was making the right choice, no matter how much it was destined to upend her life.

She considered her husband with deliberate practicality. The man she’d married twenty years earlier when she’d been eighteen and pregnant reclined in the armchair opposite hers, his gaze expectant. Their fathers had been like brothers. They’d attended the same schools, had fought side by side in the American War of Independence, and had later perished together at sea.

Wilhelmina and George had both been ten years old when news of their fathers’ deaths had arrived. With their properties less than one mile apart, they’d quickly found solace in each other. As one would expect, the incident had deepened the bond they’d already shared since birth. So when Wilhelmina faced the greatest ordeal of her life eight years later, George hadn’t hesitated for a second. Having recently been denied the woman he loved, he’d insisted he’d never want to wed another. So he’d chosen to protect Wilhelmina instead. George had, she acknowledged, sacrificed more for her than what was fair. It was time she returned the favor.

Deciding to be direct, she cleared her throat. “I think we ought to get a divorce.”

George’s eyes widened. He stared at her as if she were mad. “I beg your pardon?”

Wilhelmina took a deep breath. “How long have you and Fiona been seeing each other?”

His gaze slid away from hers as his cheeks grew ruddy. “You know the answer to that.”

By my estimation it’s almost exactly two years. Two years of pretending Fiona is my dearest friend – that it is me she comes to see thrice a week, not you.” The lovely widow, ten years George’s junior, had caught his attention one evening at Almack’s. The two had struck up a conversation, which had led to a dance. When subsequent run-ins with Fiona had increased George’s interest in her, Wilhelmina had decided to step in and help the pair. By covering for them, she’d allowed them to conduct their affair in private and without scrutiny.

It was, she realized, an unconventional arrangement. But then again, her entire marriage was far from ordinary. The one and only attempt she and George had made to consummate their union turned out to be a spectacular failure. Bedding each other had been impossible due to their being like brother and sister and, Wilhelmina admitted, due to her own aversion for the act itself. So she’d happily encouraged George to pursue such relationships elsewhere in the years since.

I’m sorry. I did not realize you were opposed to our meetings. You never—”

George.” Wilhelmina gave her husband a reassuring smile. “I believe you’ve misunderstood my reason for suggesting a divorce. It is not because I’m offended or upset by the relationship you and Fiona enjoy, but rather because I believe you have fallen in love with her and she with you.”

He sat utterly motionless for a moment, then finally nodded. They’d always been frank with each other. “You’re correct, but divorce is not the answer, Mina. It would be public and messy. Our reputations would be destroyed in the process – yours especially.”

Bolstering herself against the truth of his words, she shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll manage.”

No.” He shook his head. “I won’t have that on my conscience.”

She stood and went to crouch before him. Her hand clasped his. A pair of dark brown eyes filled with concern met hers. “You gave up on love for me once – on starting a family of your own. Please, allow me to return the enormous favor you did me when you decided to save me from ruin and Cynthia from illegitimacy.”

Ah, but I did marry for love, Mina.”

I know, but not in the way you should have.”

If you think I have regrets, you’re wrong. I’d make the same decision again in a heartbeat.”

Because you’re the best man there is, George. And as such, you deserve every happiness in the world. You deserve to have a life with Fiona just as she deserves to have a life with you.” She carefully released his hand, then stood and crossed to the sideboard where she proceeded to fill two glasses with brandy. Returning, she handed him his drink and took a sip of her own.

A frown appeared on George’s brow. “You’ve no idea how hard it would be to break up our marriage completely. We’re not just speaking of legal separation, Mina, which in and of itself is enough to see one shunned from Society. What you’re suggesting would require parliamentary involvement with three readings of the divorcement bill before the Lords. Witnesses to your adulterous behavior would have to give evidence.”

I’ve thought about that. Obviously, the simplest thing to do would be to pay a few men for the trouble.”

He gaped at her, then took a sip of his drink. “No. I appreciate the offer, but we’ll do no such thing.”

George. I really—”

It’s absolutely out of the question.”

You’re certain I can’t persuade you?”

He gave her a steady look. “Quite.”

All right,” Mina agreed after a moment’s hesitation. She knew when George was beyond budging. “But this arrangement with Fiona is untenable. It’s just a matter of time before someone catches on to the fact that the two of you are lovers, and when they do, she will suffer the most. So if you refuse a divorce, you should at the very least consider moving out of Town. Find a small village somewhere so you can carry on with each other discreetly.”

And leave you here by yourself? Would that not raise a few eyebrows?”

Not if you come back from time to time and visit. Plenty of husbands travel for work.”

My work, as you well know, is here in London.”

It doesn’t have to be.” As the designer and manufacturer of fine furniture, George had made a name for himself amid the upper class. Having a Hewitt sofa was all the rage. So much so they’d both been admitted into upper class circles and counted Viscount and Viscountess Pennington among their dearest friends. “You already have employees who are trained to handle new orders along with the shop on a regular basis. Whether you sit in your study here and create new designs or you do so a hundred miles away would make little difference, would it not?”

I suppose not.”

Especially if you were to set up a home near Croft, which in my mind would make your life simpler since that’s where the carpenters are.”

For the first time since this conversation had begun, George allowed a hint of humor to tug at his lips. “You’ve put a frightening amount of thought into this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were eager to be rid of me.”

Not at all,” she told him in earnest. “I merely desire to see you happy.”

He seemed to mull this over a moment. “I’ll think on it. Right now, there’s still Cynthia’s upcoming wedding to consider. Moving ahead with any drastic changes should probably wait until she has spoken her vows. I’d hate to give Mr. Petersen or his parents a reason to call things off.”

Agreed.”

George finally smiled. “Good. That’s settled then. Care for a game of cards?”

Wilhelmina located the deck and returned to her seat. She knew George was being protective. It was in his nature. But she hated feeling like she was becoming a hindrance to him, a burden keeping him from the life he deserved.

Of course, altering his perspective only required a change in circumstance. This was apparent when he came to speak with Wilhelmina six months later. In the sort of bleak tone one might use when there’d been a death in the family, he announced that he’d gotten Fiona with child.

I’m sorry,” he muttered. Slumped in the same chair he’d used for their previous conversation on the matter, he clasped his head between his hands. No man had ever looked more defeated or miserable. It broke Wilhelmina’s heart. The joy George would surely have felt over the pregnancy was being overshadowed by the complication of his marriage to her.

Now, faced with a choice between the scandal of divorce or bringing an illegitimate child into the world, she knew his hand had been forced by fate. As such, the only thing she could think to do was offer comfort and reassurance as he’d so often done for her. “It’s all right. I will survive this, George. We all will.”

I’ve spoken about it at length with Fiona. She asked me to convey her gratitude. What you are willing to do is—”

The correct thing.”

Mina…” His voice was thick with feeling.

Moving forward, we’ll need a plan,” she told him matter-of-factly before she too succumbed to emotion. “Right now, only the three of us know the true nature of this marriage or that you and I share a bond stronger than what most married couples enjoy. If we are to succeed in dissolving our marriage completely, we’ll need to put up a good façade. The fewer people we confide in, the better.”

I’ve considered this too,” George said. “I think we need to tell Cynthia and her husband, Henry, what to expect. I also think it would benefit you if one or two of our closest friends, like the Penningtons, were brought into our confidence. This way, you won’t be completely alone afterward.”

Maybe,” she agreed. “From what I gather, you and I shan’t be permitted to see each other once the divorce has been settled.”

Not that we’d have much opportunity to.” When she gave him a puzzled look he explained, “Although getting through this may take a long time, Fiona and I intend to leave England as soon as it’s over since staying here and facing the aftermath could be difficult for our child.”

Wilhelmina’s stomach clenched at the idea of George moving overseas. He’d always been there and while she was happy to help him marry Fiona, she instantly knew his absence from England would lead to an unwelcome emptiness in her heart. For his sake, she forced herself to maintain her composure.

Where will you go?”

Massachusetts has a well-established logging industry, but it’s my understanding that the area surrounding the Great Lakes shows promise. It’s reputed to be an especially stunning part of North America. Most importantly, it’s far away.”

It certainly was. Wilhelmina forced a smile and tried not to panic. This was for the best. George would be with the woman he loved and start a family. With Cynthia already settled a few months earlier, her future had been secured. As for Wilhelmina herself, she’d weather the storm as best as she could, most likely by focusing all her energy on the property she owned near Renwick. George had helped her purchase the small farm nearly five years ago. After a serious bout of influenza, he’d insisted on making sure she’d have a property in her own name in case he died. She’d not been there often, but having it did reassure her.

You do realize your child will likely be born out of wedlock,” Wilhelmina said. She hated bringing this up, but decided it was best to face the facts, no matter how unappealing. “From what I gather, the proceedings we intend to undertake could last a couple of years.”

George’s gaze finally sharpened. “I’m aware, but once it’s done, my son or daughter shall have my name.”

About the Author

Sophie Barnes

USA TODAY bestselling author Sophie Barnes spent her youth traveling with her parents to wonderful places all around the world. She’s lived in five different countries, on three different continents, and speaks Danish, English, French, Spanish, and Romanian with varying degrees of fluency. But, most impressive of all, she’s been married to the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses.

When she’s not busy dreaming up her next romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, swimming, cooking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.

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When I Was Her Daughter Virtual Book Tour

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Memoir

 

Date Published: November 12, 2021

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Seven-year-old Leslie has a serious problem: someone is trying to kill her.

She must fight to save herself and her little brother from the stark realities of living with their mother’s raging psychosis. To evade the evil Russian spies her mother believes are after them, they forgo sleep, speak in whispers, and live on the run. Her mother searches for hidden listening devices, writes rambling manifestos about the impending Communist takeover, and attempts to kill herself and her children to protect them from rape, torture, and murder at the hands of the government. Controlling the chaos seems impossible—Leslie rebels, which only angers her mother, but when she obeys, terrible consequences follow.

Eventually, the police place Leslie and her brother in foster care. Freedom from her mother’s paranoia and violent tendencies offers the young girl a glimmer of hope, but she plummets into despair under the oppressive weight of abusive, alienating homes. All seems lost until a teacher intervenes, risking everything to bring Leslie to safety, to show her the redemptive power of trust and patience, and to prove unconditional love is possible, even without the bond of blood.

When I Was Her Daughter is a raw, honest account of one girl’s terrifying childhood journey through madness, loss, and a broken foster care system, where only the lucky and most resilient survive.

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Excerpt 

 

CHAPTER 1

Summer 1980

Age 6

My earliest memory is of drowning.

Mom squints and smiles at me. Holding my hand, she guides me into the ocean. I’m on my tiptoes and intoxicated with excitement. I want her to take me out so I can float like a buoy. The cool water lifts me up, makes me weightless under the blasting summer sun. Mom tells me, “Not too deep,” but I pull her toward the horizon, where all I can see is water and sky.

I’m six years old, wearing my pink and white floral two-piece with the ruffles over the chest and across the hips. The water’s surface rises under my chin like a blanket, and a lukewarm chill trickles along the back of my neck.

Auntie Philys and William wade at the shoreline behind me where the water rushes in and tugs at the land. Auntie’s polyester pant cuffs are rolled up, so I know she’s expecting to get wet even though she can’t swim. William is only five, and he can’t swim either. The sun makes the top of his blond head shine.

My aunt’s ragged voice rings out. “Help! I can’t swim!”

When I look back to the shoreline, I see the surf has knocked her down, and the water and sand take her, as if with fingers, into the sea. Like an overturned beetle, Auntie kicks at the air. Then, William falls, and the whitewash yanks him into the surf, too. I’m thinking I should go back and save them, but when I turn toward Mom to tell her, water gushes into my mouth and floods my ears with its whoosh, glomp, whoosh, and then I’m like a bundle of clothes in a washing machine. I don’t understand the thick scent that fills my nose—mushed strawberries mixed with salt. My eyeballs sting like a burn, but I keep them open. I need them to find the light because that’s where the surface is.

Mom lets me go. I inhale ocean and flail around for her—a hand, a body, something to anchor me. I’m slammed into the sea floor. It’s a scratchy, sickening drag along the bottom before I’m tossed again and tumbling. I strain toward the surface, teaching myself how to survive already. Something scrapes my thigh. Mom’s fingernails? No, her ring. The yellow topaz one with the prongs that stick up like needles. I reach for her but come up empty.

***

I open my eyes after drowning to see Jesus looking down at me. He holds me in his arms, carries me to my towel. Seawater drips like honey from his long, brown hair and beard. The sun behind him creates a halo around his head.

William lies on a towel on his belly, whimpering. I rest my hand on his trembling back.

Jesus leaves but returns soon, carrying Mom. He leaves again, and when he returns, he has Auntie Philys in his arms. He lays her gently on a towel.

“You’re an angel,” Mom says, her breath heavy like sadness. “You saved us. An angel sent straight from heaven. What’s your name?”

“It’s Jesus, Mom,” William says.

Jesus laughs. “I’m Dan. Just glad I was here.”

“Where did you come from?” Mom says. “The beach is practically empty except for those two fucking lazy excuses.” She points to a man and woman sitting as still as mannequins in low chairs about fifty yards away.

“I was just out on my board,” Jesus says. “The undertow took you.”

Mom’s mascara streaks her cheeks, and her short auburn hair sticks to her temples and forehead. “Damn Communists.” She shakes her head. “They’re everywhere.”

Auntie squints. “Roberta, knock it off.” She coughs into her hand, then gropes around the towel for her purse. “I need my glasses. And a cigarette.”

I sink into my warm towel, floating on being alive. I look up, but Jesus is gone.

“Lazy bastards!” Mom shouts and shuffles through the hot sand toward the lounging couple. “Kids are drowning, and you just sit there?”

They ignore her, staring straight ahead in their sunglasses. Maybe they are mannequins. Or Communists, whatever that is. Auntie puts her hand on Mom’s arm, but Mom kicks sand at their legs before giving up.

Towels over shoulders, we drag ourselves to the car. Boiled hotdog and coconut suntan lotion smells replace the scent of drowning. Soaring seagulls let squawks fall from their beaks. A cloud-gray bird lands at the edge of the sidewalk to peck at breadcrumbs.

We drive home in Auntie’s Ford Mustang with the fuzzy white dice hanging from the rearview. Lungs small and tight, I fall asleep and dream about how staying close to the surface keeps me safe.

On the sidewalk in front of our Paramount apartment, I turn the crotch of my swimsuit inside out to release clumps of sand. I should have died, but instead, I feel how soft the sand and I are, and how hard, too. I’m mad at the ocean for tricking me, for being so inviting when all it wanted to do was swallow me.

About the Author

Leslie Ferguson

Leslie Ferguson is an accomplished educator, editor, and writing coach. As a youth in foster care, she dreamed about becoming a teacher. She earned her credential at the University of Redlands and returned to her alma mater to teach advanced English before obtaining a master’s degree in English literature and an MFA in creative writing from Chapman University. Her work has been published in numerous literary magazines and anthologies. A member of the San Diego Memoir Writers Association and the San Diego Writers and Editors Guild, Leslie is a repeat performer at So Say We All’s VAMP! and Poets Underground. She lives in the greater San Diego area with her husband, where she binge-watches coming-of-age character dramas and reminisces about her glory days as an All-American basketball player and collegiate Hall-of-Fame athlete. When I Was Her Daughter is her first book.

Visit the author online at LeslieFergusonAuthor.com.

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Finding Lorena Blitz

 

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Time Travel Romantic Adventure

 

Published: February 2021

Publisher: Franklin Ridge Publishing

Imagine being able to jump back in time and do it all over again.

Going back to live with everything you’ve learned, and knowing everything that’s happened in the world during your lifetime. That’s exactly what happens to Connor Grace, a middle-aged divorced school teacher, who is hit by a car in downtown Charleston and wakes up as a teenager again in the late 1980’s.

Young again, he seeks out the woman who he knows will eventually become his first love, and sets out to right the wrongs of the past. As he tries to make sense of the tumultuous times he had already lived through once before, he discovers that he isn’t the only one who has come back.

In Finding Lorena, organized crime, southern charm, Israeli martial arts, time travel, and self-discovery coalesce in an action-adventure love story for the ages…well, maybe a few different ages.

Finding Lorena tablet, paperback

 

 

About the Author

Michael Bartos is a psychiatrist and author living in Chapel Hill, NC. He previously lived on the South Carolina coast which has influenced his writing. His other novel “BASH, Love, Madness, and Murder” is about the fictional Blakemore Anderson State Hospital (BASH) for the criminally insane. In BASH, a case of mistaken identity leads to an undercover reporter stuck inside the hospital mistaken for a violent patient.

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We the Dreamers Virtual Book Tour

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 Children’s Fiction / Picture Book

 

Date Published: November 1,
2021

Publisher: Cayena Press,
Inc.

 

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We the Dreamers” describes the journey of immigrating to a new place
through the eyes of a child. The narrative text is poetic and full of
emotion. The illustrations, which seem to dance and sing, convey the
story of crossing borders as a child.

This children’s picture book, told alternatively in English and in
Spanish, highlights all the emotions immigrants experience throughout
their journey: the characters end up feeling mystified, bemused, or even
bewildered upon entering the United States.

Using colorful, imaginative illustrations and poetic narrative, “We the
Dreamers” connects with its readers in an emotional and compassionate way,
and it opens up the floor to holding conversations about immigration with
children.

EXCERPT

I traveled by plane.

High in the sky.

I could touch the clouds.

Viajé en avión.

Alto en el cielo. 

Casi podía tocar las nubes.

I traveled by train.

Fast as the wind. 

Everything was a blur.

Viajé en tren.

Iba rápido como el viento. 

Todo estaba borroso.

I traveled by foot.

I could play with the wind. 

I had fun throwing stones into the air.

How did you come here?

About the Author

She has a doctorate in leadership in higher education and works as a public
librarian. She is the author of “Mama Tingo,” “María Montez, the Queen of
Technicolor,” and “Little Giants: 10 Hispanic Women Who Made History.” “We
the Dreamers” is her second fiction book for children. She lives in New York
with an untamed Shih Tzu, Toby, and a much-attached Chihuahua, Maya. She
spends her free time thinking (and drafting) about books to write, painting,
crocheting, and crying over abused dogs.

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The Genes of Isis Virtual Book Tour

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Epic/Mythological Fantasy

Date Published: 08-28-2018

Publisher: Troubador

 

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Akasha is a precocious young woman who lives in a world where oceans
circulate in the aquamarine sky waters.

Before she was born, the Helios, a tribe of angels from the sun, came to
Earth to deliver the Surge, the next step in the evolution of an embryonic
human race. Instead, they left humanity on the brink of extinction and
spawned a race of monstrous hybrids.

Horque is a Solarii, another tribe of angels, sent to Earth to rescue the
genetic mix-up and release the Surge.

When Akasha has a premonition that a great flood is imminent and falls in
love with Horque, her life becomes an instrument for apocalyptic change. But
will it save the three races – humans, hybrids and Solarii – from the
killing waters?

 

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EXCERPT

Prologue 

 

Sometimes when I sit alone and the night draws in like a curtain of fine black soot, my skin becomes ultra-sensitive. I can feel the slight vibrations of a shadow, or detect a passing wraith vainly seeking its way home. Each nerve fibre develops its own echo, so as the feeling travels from my fingertips, through the palm, along the forearm, then flashes through the scapula, it culminates in a resounding crescendo in the caverns of my soul. 

Stillness ushers in this state, a strange quiescence that comes from afar. It is as if I were afloat in the midst of a great galaxy, where the sound of the millions of years hums in the inner chambers of my mind like a gentle but mysterious symphony.  

When I touch its panorama, I see with my own eyes, but in a way subtly different to normal vision. I watch with other eyes. Other eyes – how is that possible? There is only me, isn’t there? But there is something else – an entity – that sees through my eyes, that sees what I see. How can this be? That I can see? That the other can be? Yet I tell you it is so. 

They are the Eyes of the Watchers. 

When they attend me, I feel their primeval power and authority. Without prejudice or bias, they watch. From the gentle awakening of my body in my mother’s womb when the fiery spirit entered therein, to the time when one day I will exhale my last sigh, they are vigilant. 

When they are far away, I long for them to return and grace my existence. When they are near, the Watchers are both a passion and a comfort, for I know that they convey what they witness through me back up the great ray of creation. They tell me I am not alone and simply never will be.   

Their duty and dedication is to write, as well as to watch. They are both silent witnesses and faithful recorders. Etched for eternity in the planet’s living archive, they have recorded, though not in hieroglyphs, nor on papyrus or carved on stone, her secret, invisible vault – the astral light.   

As I write this testament, they watch and record. One day, the Source will turn the celestial pages of what I’ve written and weigh it in the balance. Life is a continuous exercise of spiritual due diligence, and my actions here will determine my place in the next life. 

My name is Akasha

I am mother of you all.

You are the children of angels.  

And this is our story. 

 

 

About the Author

Justin Newland

Justin Newland is an author of historical fantasy and secret history
thrillers – that’s history with a supernatural twist. His stories
feature known events and real people from history which are re-told and
examined through the lens of the supernatural. He gives author talks and is
a regular contributor to BBC Radio Bristol’s Thought for the Day. He
lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset,
England.

His Books…

The Genes of Isis is a tale of love, destruction and ephemeral power set
under the skies of Ancient Egypt. A re-telling of the Biblical story of the
flood, it reveals the mystery of the genes of Isis – or genesis
– of mankind. ISBN 9781789014860.

“The novel is creative, sophisticated, and downright brilliant! I
couldn’t ask more of an Egyptian-esque book!” – Lauren,
Books Beyond the Story.

The Old Dragon’s Head is a historical fantasy and supernatural
thriller set during the Ming Dynasty and played out in the shadows the Great
Wall of China. It explores the secret history of the influences that shaped
the beginnings of modern times.  ISBN 9781789015829.

‘The author is an excellent storyteller.” – British
Fantasy Society.

Set during the Great Enlightenment, The Coronation reveals the secret
history of the Industrial Revolution. ISBN 9781838591885.

“The novel explores the themes of belonging, outsiders…
religion and war…  filtered through the lens of the
other-worldly.” – A. Deane, Page Farer Book Blog.

His latest, The Abdication (July, 2021), is a suspense thriller, a journey
of destiny, wisdom and self-discovery. ISBN 9781800463950.

“In Topeth, Tula confronts the truth, her faith in herself, faith in
a higher purpose, and ultimately, what it means to abdicate that
faith.”

V. Triola, Coast to Coast.

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