by | August 9, 2016 · 5:00 am

BLITZ – GRIEVOUS BY NANCY HAVILAND

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GRIEVOUS

by Nancy Haviland
Wanted Men #5
Publication Date: August 9, 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary Romance, Mafia Romance, Organized Crime

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Synopsis: Yasmeen Michaels’ first hours of life were spent nestled in a cloud of dirty blankets on the front stoop of an orphanage in the Bronx. Even though rejection and loneliness peppered her life, she still fought hard enough to step out of her past a free, independent woman with a bright future ahead of her. Darkness descends when a shocking ripple in the organized crime world sends a grieving Romanian mobster back into her life. Yasmeen wakes to find herself in a centuries-old castle in Romania; claimed not as Lucian Fane’s lover…but as his pet.Lucian Fane is at ease in his place of power. He unapologetically lords over his business empire right alongside his criminal one. But when tragedy dares to cross his threshold, Lucian is sent into a tailspin and soon finds himself toeing the line between sanity and freedom. With his conscience gone, and in a bid to save his city from his wrath, he plucks an exquisite distraction from her world and tucks her away in his. Only then does he allow his demons free reign.

Even as Yasmeen once more finds herself fighting to hold onto her self-worth, the draw towards the darkness soon becomes too strong to resist. Will she be able to hold tight to her new owner as he freely drifts beyond her reach? Or will Lucian surface long enough to realize he’s pushing his precious pet too far to allow for forgiveness?

**ATTN: GRIEVOUS can be read as a STANDALONE. This book is the first part of Lucian and Yasmeen’s story. It DOES NOT have a HEA. The completion of their story will come in book #7 in the Wanted Men series, scheduled for release in 2017.

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EXCERPT: GRIEVOUS

“Up, Yasmeen.”

That’s what she thought. She shoved her arms in the air, and he pulled the soft cotton over her head. She looked down at the logo across her chest. “You went to Princeton?”

“I went to Princeton. I also spent some time at Oxford.”

“In England?”

“Is there another?”

“Not that could handle that attitude, no.” He gave her a warning look that she took head on. “Don’t look at me like that. Your arrogance is astounding. The girls must have followed you around with their panties in the air.”

“As I am sure the boys at NYU followed behind you holding their dicks in their hands.”

She grimaced. “No, they didn’t.”

“Yes, my pet. They did. Believe me. If you did not witness it, they were being discreet. I would guarantee hundreds of men have come on their shower walls to thoughts of you on your knees before them.”

“Lucian. Don’t be disgusting.”

He gave her an exasperated look. “That is not disgusting. If I were to see you masturbate, I would be enthralled.”

“Yes, but that’s someone you’re attracted to. I’d be all eyes if I watched you, too. But to think of other men doing it makes me a little vomity.”

“For masturbating to a mental image of you.”

She tipped her head and nodded as if it was dense of him to confirm.

“You are a strikingly beautiful woman. You must know men wonder what it must be like to fuck you the minute they see you. When I saw you for the first time, I was staggered by your beauty. I have never experienced the sensation of having my breath taken. You accomplished that without batting an eye.”

She couldn’t deny hearing she hadn’t been the only one affected like that made her feel great. But looks were looks, and they’d eventually go. “So your first thought was to have sex with me?”

A shadow passed over his features. “No. My first thought was to do what I have now done.”

“Have sex with me.”

“Steal you.”

Her eyes flared. “You thought to steal me? That night?”

“I fought myself throughout our meal. By the time you got up to use the restroom, I’d considered a variety of ways I could imprison you, right down to purchasing a small island and allowing you to roam freely but with no actual way of escape.”

He bent and kissed her throat before nudging her toward the sitting area. “Sit.”

She slowly walked over, trying to get her head around the fact that he’d wanted to do this to her two years ago. That meant Markus’s murder hadn’t created her crazy man, it had just prodded him out into the open. When she reached the loveseat and turned to sit, he was gone.

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DON’T MISS THE OTHER SIZZLING BOOKS IN THE WANTED MEN SERIES, FEATURING SEXY ALPHAS AND THE WOMEN THAT CONQUERED THEIR HEARTS…

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PURCHASE (A Love of Vengeance, The Salvation of Vengeance, and An Obsession with Vengeance are #FREE with #KindleUnlimited!): Amazon

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ABOUT NANCY HAVILAND

Nancy Haviland

Nancy Haviland, author of the bestselling organized crime series, WANTED MEN, writes about her alpha mobsters and their ladies from her home near Toronto, Ontario. She fights for space on her keyboard with her arrogant kitty named Talbot, and adores her Tim Horton’s coffee; as any self-respecting Canadian would. She writes contemporary romantic suspense but will happily read anything that involves two people smooching.

A member of Romance Writers of America, Nancy is represented by Nalini Akolekar of Spencerhill Associates, and is published by Montlake Romance/Amazon Publishing.

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by | August 8, 2016 · 1:18 pm

FLIGHT FROM MAYHAM BY YASMINE GALENORN

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New York Times bestselling author Yasmine Galenorn presents the second Fly by Night novel, set in the realm of the Otherworld.

I’m Shimmer, a blue dragon shifter. Thanks to a mistake, I was exiled from the Dragon Reaches and sentenced to work for gorgeous, exasperating Alex Radcliffe, a vampire who owns the Fly by Night Magical Investigations Agency. Every time I turn around, somebody’s trying to kill us. But you know what they say: All’s fair in love and bounty hunting…

A serial killer is stalking the elderly Fae of Seattle, draining their bank accounts before brutally murdering them. When Chase Johnson asks for our help, Alex and I discover that the sociopath is also a shifter—able to change shape to match his victim’s deepest desires. Our friend and colleague Bette volunteers to act as bait, but the plan goes dangerously awry. Now, unless we find her first, she’s about to face her worst nightmare.

From the Paperback edition.

BOOK DESCRIPTION COURTESY OF AMAZON

I was given a copy of this book by Netgalley for an honest review.

Flight from Mayhem (Fly by Night) is an awesome book! The characters and story line is very well-developed. When Shimmer and the others delve into a case where someone is killing older Fae and stealing their money. One of their own is put into danger. They will face something they have never seen before. They cannot believe everything they see, for the shifter can take on the life of anyone. Also, the house across the street has a mystery that they have to solve to help the ghost stuck there. I loved this book and series, and recommend it to everyone. I give FLIGHT FROM MAYHEM 5/5 STARS.

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by | · 8:00 am

INTERFERENCE- BLITZ

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Interference

by Mignon Mykel
Prescott Family #1
Publication Date: August 8, 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis: Hockey’s most eligible bachelor must run interference to get the one girl he can’t have.

Sydney:
I’d never even heard of Caleb Prescott, God’s gift to hockey. Who watches hockey anyways? Not me, I’m too busy with college and work. My part-time just for fun job has now asked me to recruit this player for a new dating show. Sounds easy enough. . .until he insists I become part of the show.

Caleb:
I only agreed to compete on the dating show to get closer to Sydney—the redhead pixie I’d do anything to see again. But unlike the women competing for my affection, or the puck bunnies desperate for my attention, Sydney isn’t impressed by my hockey skills. I never miss a shot, I don’t care if she calls interference, I’ll do anything to win her heart.

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EXCERPT

Caleb

As she was about to rush into explaining when I would board the cruise-liner, as if I had agreed to it, I held up my hand. “Miss Meadows.” God that sounded too formal for a woman like her. “Sydney,” I tried again, definitely preferring the taste of it on my tongue. “How about we meet over coffee or something tomorrow? Ten?”

Her eyes widened slightly, just briefly, before she nodded with a fixed smile in place. “Of course. Yes, that will give you more time to let it sink in. So long as you agree to—”

I cut her off with a grin. While yes, this show was against everything I had ever thought for myself, I had a feeling that sitting with Sydney and talking to her about the show, as if I were agreeing to it, would be the only time I’d see this gorgeous redhead again. I didn’t quite know what was drawing me to this short pixie of a woman, but I definitely wanted to see her again. Tomorrow I’d have no time constraints and she could talk all she wanted.

But before I realized the words were out of my mouth though, I said, “I’ll do it,” agreeing to her pitch.

Shit. Fuck.

The smile filling her face wasn’t one I was about to take away, and her amber eyes danced, lightening just slightly to bring out fiery red specks. “We can discuss contestants tomorrow then. Wonderful. Oh, great!”

I had to swallow a chuckle at her obvious excitement. We agreed on a place to meet and I watched her leave out of the corner of my eye while heading toward the ice.

Like I said, I liked her ass.

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DON’T MISS WHERE IT ALL STARTED…FROM THE BEGINNING, BOOK #0.5 IN THE PRESCOTT SERIES!

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Synopsis: Before the Prescott name became big in the hockey world, there was just Noah Prescott, fighting for a spot on an NHL roster. Never did he imagine a simple note from a shy fan would speed up his world.

Ryleigh Scott had an issue talking to men, but she knew she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk to Noah — potentially negative labels, be damned. Never did she imagine a simple note would start what could only be described as the beginning of the rest of her life.

This is Noah and Ryleigh — before the NHL contract, before the kids, before going back home.

This is Noah and Ryleigh from the beginning.

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ABOUT MIGNON MYKEL

Mignon Mykel

Mignon is a twenty-something (…getting awfully close to thirty-something) who resides in Wisconsin. An avid reader since her preschool days, she ‘blames’ her mother for teaching her to read during that all-important time during a forming brain. Some of her earlier memories of reading include her mother buying her a book at the mall — and finishing the book before they even returned home.

Writing happened soon after the reading started. Her first writing piece can be found in a box of other important papers from growing up. It’s about an apple who was her friend, but she had to eat.

The first series Mignon started to write was about a close family of one brother and his three younger sisters. She started writing this family and their friends in 2005, but as soon as the Prescott family took over her mind, the Ashbys fell silent. Maybe someday we’ll all hear from the Ashbys, but those Prescotts…. The Prescotts are excited to have their stories told.

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by | August 7, 2016 · 5:00 am

PROMO BLITZ- NIGHTLORD: SUNSET BY GARON WHITED

Fantasy / Epic Fantasy
Date Published: September 2014
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Eric didn’t ask to be a vampire. In fact, he didn’t even believe in them. Then he hooks up with a hot babe, wakes up with a hangover, and bites his tongue with his own fangs.
Which pretty much settles the question.
Now he’s trying to hold down his day job while learning the rules of the Undead — the most important being that bloodthirsty urges and predatory instincts are a real bitch.
Upside; Eric has the beautiful Sasha to teach him the ropes, including the magic he’ll need to survive.
Downside; they’re being hunted by members of the Church of Light, who are determined to rid the world of vampires.
Then Sasha is killed, and Eric is thrust into an alternate world in his quest to avenge her death. There he becomes a Nightlord, fights a dragon with the help of his magical steed, Bronze, and upchucks a sword named Firebrand.
But things get really interesting when Eric finally finds Tobias, head of the Church of Light. Soon Eric finds himself at the center of an epic battle at the literal edge of the world in a fight to keep a terrible darkness at bay.
In other words, just another day in the life of the Nightlord.
“When you fall off the Edge of the World into hordes of demonic Things from the Outer Darkness, you really start to wonder if you haven’t made some mistakes.”  –Eric, part-time undead, expectant father, and short-term astronaut.
Other Books in the Nightlord Series:
Published: August 2015
“I’ve awakened in a stone box about the size of a large coffin… I’m filthy, everything aches, and, by the various so-called gods, I smell awful.
“I’ve woken up in worse places.
“Hmm. What does that say about my life choices?” —Eric, amateur magician, part-time vampire, and accidental king.
It’s not easy, being King. Especially when you’ve got an allergy to sunrise and sunset, a fire-goddess for a mother-in-law, demonic adversaries, random assassins, and a basement full of insecurities to cope with.
Add to that his daughter, the fire-priestess/princess, a couple of lightly-deranged professional magicians, a whole city full of wizards, and enough squabbling princes to resemble a kindergarten argument.
It’s enough to make a man want to just go home.
Luckily for Eric, he has the world’s fastest pet rock, a smart-mouthed sword, and a horse that not only understands him, but likes him anyway.
“An awful lot of young ladies seem to be up all night, wandering around the halls on the off-chance they’ll bump into the King when he’s in the mood for a snack. Since when did I become sexy? And why didn’t anybody warn me it was going to be work?” —Eric, elder geek and occasional idiot.
Published: May 2016
We all have inner demons. We fight them all the time. Some of us achieve inner peace by coming to terms with them.
But how do you come to terms with inner demons that tear free and become outer demons?
Eric has been a vampire for nearly a century, and his demons are more than metaphors. While they controlled him, he was the Demon King. Now he has to avoid the monsters in his own mind, as well as angry nobles, fanatical religions, assassins, magi, other vampires, criminal organizations, and the neighborhood gossip.
He wants two things: To find Tort, and to have someplace to call home.
It may be too much to ask.
EXCERPT
 I ignored the susurrus of voices, dashed up the avenue between the ruined monuments, and took the broad stairs before the door in three skipping jumps. The door itself was a carefully-balanced block of stone. It stood about eight feet tall and was perhaps twice that in width. Opening it required it to pivot around the center, its balance. Judging by the scrapes along the dusty portico, Tobias had found it no trouble at all. I, however, shoved on each side of the block in turn without result. Maybe he locked it.
I backed off, got a running start, and jumped. I kicked it with both feet, as high up as I could manage. Something snapped in the wall as I hit the door. I came to a sudden halt, thudding into the stone like a cannonball, then fell heavily to the dusty floor. I rolled to my feet awkwardly—Firebrand can be an annoyingly large chunk of metal—and was in time to watch the whole block of stone finish a slow, majestic topple inward. It landed flat with an echoing, tomb-door thud and sent up a huge cloud of white dust.
I was over that stone and past the cloud in an instant, dashing down a long tunnel before the echoes had finished. Directly ahead, far distant, I could see Tobias out in the open air. I came out of the mouth of the tunnel like the bullet from a gun.
The plaza was large. Two football games and a cricket match could have been held concurrently in that space—complete with spectators. The tunnel I exited was at the floor level of a grandly-curving amphitheater facing Tobias. All of this was scoured from rock and worn by years of use. The floor was also natural stone, cut only to smooth it down and level it. There was no roof at all.
Perhaps a quarter-mile away, the radius of the half-circle, Tobias had his back to me. Shada was lying naked on a slab of rock just beyond him. And beyond her…
The world ended.
I once wondered about the nature of the world I’m in. Is it round? Is it flat? Does it go around the Sun or vice versa?
The world is flat. Sure, it may be round—like a coin. But it has an edge, very real, and sharply defined. I know. I’ve seen it. At least that explained why my compass never found north.
Beyond that edge exists a gulf of yawning blackness, speckled here and there by the distant stars—or are they stars? I don’t know what they are. Maybe they’re just lights on the inside of a great sphere of crystal, or holes in that sphere to an even greater space that happens to be better illuminated. Maybe the stars are really angels with flaming swords and glowing halos.
Maybe they really are distant suns… but I doubt it.
Right up near the edge live the Things. I recognized a few from having seen them before. The rubbery monstrosity from the lab in Baret, along with the multi-tentacled creature that tried to eat me outside the gata camp. They had a bunch of brothers with them, along with a whole lot of more distant relations. There were hundreds, no, thousands of the Things in every shape and size imaginable—and many I wouldn’t choose to imagine without serious drugs. They seemed to have no gravity out there. They weren’t a flat crowd, but a wall, extending up and to the sides, as though they were all pressing against a barrier of glass, trying to get in. They were clustered most thickly near Tobias, thinner out away from him. All of them were fairly frothing at the mouth to pour from the outer darkness onto the stone floor of the world. They chattered and chittered, hissed and clacked and moaned. Their sounds were muted, as though there really was a barrier, but there was nothing to be seen holding them at bay.
Tobias was chanting. He had some tools in his hands—I couldn’t tell quite what, but one seemed to be a knife.
About the Author
 

Garon Whited was supposedly born in either 1969 or 1970; the original birth certificate is suspiciously unavailable and other records do not agree.  After spending some years in college playing with computers, he finally joined a radical group of jellyfish herding nomads. Having fought zombie dolphins, quasi-corporeal spirits, and brain-sucking mole rats, he is uniquely qualified to write fantastic fiction. His subsequent attempts at professional salsa repairman and key line salesman met with similar success. He claims to live in Texarkana, on Earth, but people have been known to disagree.
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by | August 6, 2016 · 5:00 am

PROMO BLITZ- SHELTER ME BY STEPHANIE TYLER

New Adult Romance, Romantic Suspense
Date Published:  July 25, 2016
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There are ghosts in my past—ghosts I can’t recognize.
My painting heals me, but Lucas Caine has made me come alive. My past could take both those things away forever. What started out as an undeniable need to create was quickly turning into danger as my longing for memories fed the rough canvases I filled.
Falling for Lucas will force me to revisit my lost memories—and possibly lose myself, my art, and him in the process.
And now he has me skating the thin edge between desire and fear as I use a past I don’t remember to leverage a future I’m not sure I want.
(This is book 1 in a 3 book series. Book 2 will be available November 2016 & Book 3, January 2017)
EXCERPT
I absently tucked it into a loose braid over one shoulder while I studied the painting in front of me. I’d wanted to let Brayden pick the order, but he’d refused earlier that morning, and told me I was running out of time. At that memory, I murmured “Bastard” in his absence.
That’s when a low, rough voice said, “People usually know me at least five minutes before calling me that.”
Still on the floor, I whipped around to see the tall, brutally handsome man standing maybe ten feet away. How long had he been there? I hadn’t heard him come in, but now that he was coming closer, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
The fight or flight response had remained intact when my memory hadn’t. Everyone, every stranger wasn’t necessarily a stranger. They could know me. They could be a part of my past.
Whether this man was or not, my base response to him was a purely physical one.
“The door was open,” the man explained.
And it might’ve been. Brayden told me to lock myself in but I often forgot. Panic must have flashed across my face because he stopped advancing and held up his hands like a show of surrender. But he didn’t try to tell me he was harmless, because he wasn’t. Never could be. And the man who waited for him had moved too, turned his back in an effort to appear less threatening.
“My name’s Lucas. I buy a lot of art from Brayden.”
“Mine?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“I guess you’ll have to try harder.”
A smile ghosted across his chiseled face and I liked that. Wanted to see it more, wanted to be the one who could always bring a smile to his face.
 These men could be here to harm me and I was too busy with my tongue hanging out to threaten them with the police.
Because you rely on your gut, Ryn, my therapist, foster mom and Brayden always told me. That will get you through just about any situation.
My gut said this man knew I was Ryn Taylor, artist, but didn’t know anything beyond that about me except what he’d read in interviews. Maybe he was here for my art, or maybe it was for me. But how could I feel so connected to someone I’d just met?
Lucas.
I rolled the name around in my mind as my eyes took in the black leather motorcycle jacket and the tighter black T-shirt underneath…the worn-in jeans and the heavy black motorcycle boots. I saw the hint of an expensive watch peek out on his wrist as he came closer.
I knew too, if I pushed up those sleeves, I’d find some ink. Incongruous, and ultimately intriguing.
 The angles of his face begged to be drawn, to be touched, and I held my hands down rigidly at my sides so I wouldn’t do just that. “My show’s not until tomorrow night,” I managed.
“I know.”
“Are you here to…” I looked around for Brayden, like he would magically appear and caught another glance of the other man by the door. “Are you here for Brayden?”
“For Brayden? No.” His mouth quirked up to the side a little and he ran a hand through his dark blond hair. It was long enough to curl a bit at the nape of his neck, and it was rumpled, like maybe he’d just rolled out of bed…and maybe he hadn’t been alone.
“You’re not his type.”
 His blue eyes pierced me. They were a dark blue and they missed nothing. “Whose type am I?”
Mine, I nearly blurted out. I was nervous, my stomach fluttering but not in that panicked way I recognized. Just the opposite, actually. Heat flooded me as he stared at me in my tank top and jeans with utmost appreciation, the frank gaze of someone who understood beauty and acted on it.
I wanted him to act, but at the same time, I needed him to stay away. I was too drawn to him, an electromagnetic pull that spun the earth on its axis differently. Something told me that I’d never get this man out of my life. I’d never be done with him, or him of me, and holy hell, that was a heady enough thought to make me dizzy.
I remained on my knees, stock still, looking up at him. I had the odd feeling that if I moved, even a little, I’d fall, trip, completely ruin the moment.
He gave me a heated look, and dammit, he knew what I was thinking.
Every woman who came into contact with him probably had that reaction. And that made me unnaturally, irrationally jealous because, in my mind, I’d already claimed him.
Finally, his gaze shifted to the paintings I’d been appraising. He focused on one that was part of a series that’d already sold well, thanks to Brayden. I’d wanted to call the series Man in Trees (and still did so) but Brayden told me it was creepy and insisted on simply, Catskills as the official series title. And while I could see what he meant, the person these were based on had never, ever scared me. But I couldn’t tell Brayden these were based on someone real, because he’d freak out.
 Even though I was building an entire series around him, I’d never seen the man’s face. Still, I’d always sworn I’d be able to sense him the way I’d sensed him out there before I’d caught sight of the shadowed figure, and even though I hadn’t been able to see his face clearly, I knew he was big, broad and utterly male. I’d wanted to walk across the lawn, strip him and paint him…and then climb him after I stripped myself.
When I’d shown Brayden the first picture, he’d insisted on bringing it to the gallery. I hadn’t wanted that, but I’d felt foolish telling Brayden about why the painting was so special to me, why I wanted to keep it. He told me that if I was sentimental about my work, I’d never get anywhere. In the end, after a terrible fight, I agreed to let him show it in his gallery, but I’d have final say if it was to be sold.
It was stolen a week later.
I stared up at Lucas as he stared at my painting—the fourth in a collection of nine, not counting the missing first one, all attempts to recreate those initial feelings that had propelled me to paint the first one. His expression unshuttered for a brief moment, like he was letting me in, drawing me closer to the fire.
I couldn’t afford to play with fire, but he was like the ghost of the man I thought I’d conjured up on that warm summer’s night in the Catskills. I was seventeen, dizzy and half high from creating. I’d glanced over and watched him. He was half hidden among the trees and if I hadn’t been coming off a painting, I would’ve been terrified. Instead, I noticed how handsome he was, chiseled and mysterious.
I dreamed about him that whole week, less as the years went by, but always when I needed comfort, or when I was coming out of the burn of my art.
He’d been there. He was now here. Could I have wanted him so badly that my dream turned into reality? A ridiculous thought and one I chided myself for.
Creation didn’t work that way.
I tried to draw in a shaky breath when this ridiculously beautiful, rough man moved a few steps in my direction, even though he was still focused on the painting.
The walls were closing in on me until he said, “Your work is beautiful,” and turned from me to the paintings.
What little space he’d given me let me breathe. Even though I swore his gaze heated me, the fact that he was pointing to various paintings soothed me.
“My first show is tomorrow,” was all I could think of to say, even though it was probably obvious.
“Your work is ready.”
Your work. Like he knew I wasn’t. “I don’t think I’ll ever be.”
He turned back to me then. “That’s not a bad thing. Protect whatever the hell makes these.”
What made those was a part of the nightmare of my blacked-out past. What if discovering what was behind it stole the art from me, left me limp, with nothing? What if I had to trade nightmares and the thing I loved for peace? That haunted me, so I’d chosen not to have peace.
I remained on the ground, drawn to him, wanting to rise but refusing to do so. Sheer stubbornness and self-preservation mixed together.
He reached a hand down to help me up but I couldn’t touch him. Not yet.
I pushed myself up. He was at least six foot four to my five feet four inches. The difference was dramatic.
He was so still, a predator, watching me with keen interest. I’d never been as intensely aware of a man in my life. I could smell his skin, wanted to taste it, put my mouth on his and forget everything else, including basic human decency.
I blamed the art. The heat. My lack of proper nutrition.
I stuck out my hand without saying anything, almost a dare. He took it in his and my pulse beat a tattoo. I felt the slow burn and then the aftershock quake through my whole body.
There was a definite sense of street in him, a primal, easily willing and able to fight for his life street sense.
His eyes were haunted, like maybe he already had.
There was no doubt he’d won.
About the Author
 

 

Stephanie Tyler is the New York Times bestselling author of romance novels spanning multiple genres, including Romantic Suspense, New Adult, Paranormal Romance and Contemporary Romance.
She’s a hybrid author who writes for multiple publishers, including Random House, NAL/Penguin, Harlequin, Carina Press, Mammoth Books, Belle Books and Samhain Publishing, as well as Riptide (as SE Jakes) and indie publishing. Her books have been translated into half a dozen languages, nominated for an RT Readers’ Choice Award and garnered top picks from RT Magazine as well as starred reviews from Publishers Weekly. She’s a frequent workshop presenter and has contributed stories for anthologies for charities, including SEAL of My Dreams, which has raised over 150K for the Veterans Medical Association.
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