Mom Wombat Says Make War No More! Blitz

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Children’s Fiction

Date Published: Sep 22, 2023

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

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Mom Wombat says, “Make friends, not war!”

“Try to get along and don’t keep score… It doesn’t matter who
has more toys, just have fun, my girls and boys. Don’t YOU be a bully,
not even now and then, not even to a foe or friend.”

Known as Mombat to her kids, she has plenty of ideas on how everyone can
learn to get along with others and have fun. Using her wit and insightful
wisdom, Mombat aims to make the world a better place by teaching positive
communication skills and the importance of friendship.

 

About the Author

Phyllis Schwartz
Phyllis Schwartz is a married mother of two, who, after a highly successful
career in the TV news business, finally has the time to indulge in and focus
on her “civilian” writing. Even as a kid, she kept a diary and
wrote little stories and poems, a creative release that continued well into
adulthood.

She wrote news by day and poetry by night. And despite battling three
different types of cancer over more than three decades, she is still filled
with energy, joy, and optimism, and she looks forward to writing much more
poetry and children’s books in the future. Her writing often centers
on what she observes daily: including her friends, husband, and two
children, as well as her garden and her beautiful beach town residence in
dreamy Encinitas, all providing continued inspiration for her verse.

 

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Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert Teaser

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New Adult – Literary – Contemporary fiction –
Women’s fiction

Date Published:10-20-2023

Publisher: Mapleton Press

 

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This novel about friendship, nostalgia, and finding oneself is funny and
tender, moving and poetic, while standing firmly in hope and love. The
characters are thinkers, overthinkers really, who are trying to find their
way by asking the deep questions of life with wide-eyed wonder and talking
through life’s uncertainties. They fearlessly confront the choices they’ve
made, examining their desires and their mistakes. The result is a smart,
engaging novel depicting a young woman’s search for the people and place she
will call home.

A RECOMMENDED read by the US Review

 

 

Excerpt

 

The inside of the White Tavern was dark and smelled like stale cigarettes
and grease. A server came over, wearing tight black skinny jeans and an old
Van Halen concert tee.

Dylan turned sideways in the booth to stretch his legs out. “Tell me
about this beer that’s cheaper than gas.”

“Dollar eighty-four,” the server said, which was, in fact,
cheaper than gas.

“Do you have any fries to go with those competitive beer
prices?”

It had been a long time since I’d had my favorite sandwich. Pimiento
cheese. Pickles. Ham. I sunk my teeth into a yummy bite of teenage years and
moaned out loud.

Dylan looked up from his double order of fries and raised an eyebrow.
“Do you and that sandwich need to be alone?”

I ignored his comment. “Was there anything else in that car? Anything
that might indicate a drug deal gone bad?”

“Nope. Just the cooler and the rock.”

“Huh.”

Dylan locked eyes with me. “That rock means something,
Skye.”

The dining area was empty except for us, and one other table near the back
with kitchen staff. Still, Dylan leaned across the table and whispered
urgently, “It’s like that scene in Pulp Fiction with the
briefcase in the diner.”

I furrowed my brow and gagged on a sesame seed. “With Honey
Bunny?”

“And Pumpkin.”

“What?”

Dylan leaned back and shrugged. “The guy’s name was Pumpkin.
Honey Bunny and…”

“I know. I’ve seen it thirteen times. I’m just wondering
why we’re out here in the middle of the desert with you drawing
comparisons of your life to a film that came out when you were seven years
old.”

“You—you, you mock me, Skye, but there’s a
connection.”

“Between a film and that glowing rock?”

“Yes.” He clasped his hands together firmly and laid them on
the table.

“There’s no rock in Pulp Fiction.”

“It’s implied.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s in the briefcase.”

“We never see what’s in the briefcase.”

Dylan squirmed in an exaggerated way and said, “God, use your
imagination, Skye. It’s a glowing rock.”

“Okay. Say it is a glowing rock. What does that have to do with
us?”

“It’s our time to finally make sense of our lives.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“No, you haven’t.”

I grabbed the ketchup bottle and whacked the bottom. “How do you
know?”

“Because you’re here. Right back where you started. Look,
don’t get me wrong, I love sitting out in the desert drinking Miller
High Life, listening to the coyotes howl, playing charades in the firelight
with your sister, but I’m glad you’re home.”

“You played charades with my sister?”

“Sure. Isn’t that what you were doing back east? Playing
charades? Sounds like? Feels like? Rhymes with?

“You saying those six years were nothing more than a
game?”

“We were all playing a game. It’s okay to admit the truth, even
if it’s hard.”

His answer was so simple and earnest, I didn’t know whether to kill
him or cry. I looked down at my plate with a strange mixture of surrender
and hunger. “What do you think I was doing on the East
Coast?”

Dylan inhaled and shrugged, “Trying to escape this place and burn
Trevor out of your mind with hot yoga and gluten-free buns.” He
touched my greasy hand and said, “It’s not a judgment. Look, I
don’t know what you were doing out there. You didn’t exactly
call. But you’re here now, and so am I, and I believe this is some
kind of strange gift.”

“If the rock is so important, why haven’t you moved
it?”

“It’s really heavy. I’m going to have to dig it out.
That’s where you come in.”

Dylan was always a crazy trailblazer adjusting his tinfoil hat, but
he’d leveled up the weird while I was gone.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

If I stood perfectly still in the stall, I could hear the sound of the end
coming. A sharp chapter break pushing forward. Tracks winding into a new
future. One I couldn’t see, because I was still stuck in the backseat
of my past life. I sat on the toilet and thought about escape. The problem
was I’d been escaping my entire life. Running from everything.
Destiny. Relationships. Myself. I looked down at my jeans bunched up around
my knees. I’d already managed to get stuck in a hole, might as well
grab a shovel and dig.

About the Author

Lis Anna-Langston was

Lis Anna-Langston was raised along the winding current of the Mississippi
River on a steady diet of dog-eared books. She attended a Creative and
Performing Arts School from middle school until graduation and went on to
study Literature at Webster University. Her novels have won the
Parents’ Choice Gold, Moonbeam Book Award, Independent Press Award,
Benjamin Franklin Book Award and NYC Big Book Awards. A three-time Pushcart
award nominee and Finalist in the Brighthorse Book Prize, William Faulkner
Fiction Contest, George Garrett Fiction Prize and Thomas Wolfe Fiction
Award, her work has been published in The Literary Review, Emerson Review,
The Merrimack Review, Emrys Journal, The MacGuffin, Sand Hill Review and
dozens of other literary journals.

Hailed as “an author with a genuine flair for originality” by
Midwest Book Review and “a loveable, engaging, original
voice…” by Publishers Weekly, you can find her in the wilds of
South Carolina plucking stories out of thin air.

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McMinnville Virtual Book Tour

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Science Fiction

Date Published: March 24, 2022

Publisher: MindStir Media

 

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Two photographs taken on a spring evening in 1950 that seem to show the
impossible-we are not alone. A thirteen-year-old girl disappears the same
evening, but returns thirty years later without aging a day. A dying
detective on the hunt for the answers to one mystery falls afoul of a more
profound mystery that calls into question all of human history and the
science on which the universe is based. McMinnville is the story of one
man’s coming to terms with his mortality and the inconceivable, while
falling in love for a second time, something he thought was
impossible.

Ray Baker is a retired NYPD detective, dying of cancer and dealing with the
crushing loneliness after the death of his wife. He wants to make the last
few months of his life count by traveling cross country to the places where
he grew up. Along the way, he stumbles upon a cold case that took place on
May 11, 1950, a few hundred yards from his childhood farm outside of
McMinnville, Oregon. At a little past seven in the evening on that day,
Evelyn Forsyth was feeding her rabbits when she looked up to see a craft
floating soundlessly toward her. She called for her husband, Glenn, to come
with his camera. Over a span of a few seconds, he took two photographs
before the craft tipped up on edge and sped away. That was the story that
appeared in the Telephone Register, McMinnville’s local paper under the
heading “At Long Last-Authentic Photographs Of Flying Saucer[?]” A
month later, the photographs were featured in the June edition of Life
Magazine. Were they real or a clever hoax? Ray takes it upon himself to
answer this question, applying his considerable detective skills. But in
doing so, he steps through the looking glass into a world that makes him
question everything. If that was not enough, he also discovers that there is
a clock and it is ticking down.

 

McMinnville is the first book in a trilogy that follows Ray Baker’s pursuit
of life, love, and the truth, which is most definitely out there.

McMinnville tablet

EXCERPT

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Henry pushed the car to go faster, looking in the rearview mirror. Houses sped by his window as he barreled down South Bridge Street, headlights cutting through the dusk.

 

“Can you see them? Oh, God. . . . please!” Debra was losing it, afraid to look around, eyes fixed on her rosary beads.

 

“Shut up!” Henry shouted. Then he realized his tone with his new bride. “Sorry, I don’t see anything . . .” Blackness.

 

What Henry Roberts remembered decades later as he sat homeless in a cardboard box in a city he did not recognize was something else.

 

The road was dappled with shadows and light. Trees formed a canopy above the road as he sped along in his brand new DeSoto. The setting sun threw shards of light through the passing trees. Debra sat next to him with her head on his shoulder. A warm breeze came through the window smelling of pine and juniper. Life was perfect.

 

The newlyweds had been on the road for nearly a week. California gave way to Oregon. The honeymoon in San Francisco now gave way to a drive through the lonely countryside outside McMinnville, Oregon. 

 

He first saw the rabbit from nearly a hundred yards away as the road turned round the bend. It walked on hind legs and stood around five feet tall. As the car drew closer, the rabbit slowed its walk, its swinging arms coming to a stop. It turned its head toward the oncoming car and grinned a grimacing smile that revealed a mass of gnarled teeth. It appeared to snarl.

 

Henry slammed on the brakes, and things began to move in slow motion. Then all sound stopped, except for the radio, which had been playing “Mule Train” moments before. Now all that came out of the dashboard was static. Walking outside the car but keeping pace with the moving vehicle was Debra. She had somehow gotten out of the car. “How’d she do that?” he thought. She was outpacing the car, which had to be going fifty. Her voice split the silence and the static. “Don’t worry, Henry. They won’t hurt you.”

 

On May 12, 1950, the police, acting on an anonymous tip, found the black DeSoto overturned and concealed in the bushes off the side of the country road. All indications pointed to a high-speed accident. Except, strangely, there were no skid marks on the road. No scuff marks on the tires. No signs of a rollover. Just a busted top and crushed windshield. And, no bodies.

About the Author

Derrick McCartney

Derrick McCartney was born in El Paso, Texas and grew up in Tennessee
before moving to the Washington, DC area. Despite a degree in Soviet and
East European studies, he made a name for himself as an expert on North
Korea. After a stint in the US Government, he has spent most of his career
in defense think tanks. He has published several books and articles on
international security affairs under his real name. This is his first work
of fiction.

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Stitches Teaser Tuesday

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Devil’s Fury MC, Book 13

A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

 

Motorcycle Club, Age Gap, Dark romance, Action & Suspense

Date Published: September 22

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

 

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Marci — My sister and her boyfriend had been my entire world, until I lost
them both. Laura died, and Stitches walked away. I’ve lived in hell
for the past seven years thanks to a brother who should have protected me.
Instead, he used me to further his career, not caring whether I lived or
died. Now Stitches is back, right in front of me. I always thought of him as
an older brother, so why does he suddenly seem so sexy? What would Laura
think if she knew I was falling for the man she loved?

Stitches – When I lost my woman and daughter, I walked away. I should
have taken her little sister, Marci, with me. Instead I trusted her family.
My mistake. If I’d checked on Marci, kept in touch, I’d have
known she was in trouble. Now she’s back in my life, battered and
broken. The men who dared to hurt her will pay with their lives. Especially
her older brother. I failed her before, but this time I’ll get
vengeance for all she’s suffered. It never occurred to me I’d
end up falling for her along the way. I only hope if Laura is watching over
us, she’d approve, because I don’t think I can hold myself
back.

 

WARNING: Guaranteed happily ever after, no cliffhanger, no cheating.
Recommended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, language, and
violence.

 

Stitches tablet

EXCERPT

 

Stitches

Present Day

 

I couldn’t believe Ram had returned to the Devil’s Fury.
Although, the biggest surprise had been the women and teens he’d
brought with him. Each had suffered horribly, and I’d given them some
space the first week. Badger had agreed they would be too skittish for me to
attempt giving them an exam. It wasn’t the first time I’d used
my medical knowledge for the sake of my brothers or their women. Now I was
on the last woman, and nothing could have prepared me to come face-to-face
with Marci again. Now all grown up and looking more haunted than any woman
should. It had been ten years since I’d last seen her, which meant she
was in her early twenties now. My stomach twisted. How the hell had she
gotten mixed up in all this? And why hadn’t I known? I had so many
questions.

 

She wouldn’t look at me. Couldn’t say I blamed her. If it
weren’t for me knocking up her sister, Laura might have still been
alive. I might not have liked their brother, Richard, but I’d thought
he would at least make sure Marci had a decent life. I hadn’t seen a
single poster around town about her being missing. Not a peep on the local
news or radio. How long ago had she been kidnapped?

 

“Marci, do you remember me?” I asked, keeping my voice low and
even, not wanting to startle her.

 

She still wouldn’t acknowledge me. She rocked slightly as she stared
at the floor. I wasn’t sure if she needed a medical exam right now. A
psychiatrist would probably be better for her. I knew some of the women in
the club had spoken to one before. And Ram might not have a degree or
license but did well with that sort of thing. Would he be able to coax
something from her? Even a few words would help. I didn’t know if she
was in pain, hungry, or what the hell she needed right now.

 

Why the fuck did they have me walk in here while Marci was alone? The fact
a man came into the apartment probably scared the shit out of her. Then
again, if the others were like her, I doubted they’d have been much
comfort right now. I wished one of the old ladies had joined me for this.
But if they had, and Marci acknowledged me, then I’d have to explain
how I knew her. No one knew about Laura or our daughter, Rose, and I
intended to keep it that way if at all possible. Some things weren’t
meant to be shared, and that was a pain that was mine alone to bear.

 

“The last time I saw you, you were starting high school. Even though
we live in a small town, not once have I run into you or your brother,
Richard.” Marci flinched when I said her brother’s name. My nape
prickled and I inched a little closer. Did that asshole Richard have
something to do with her being here now? Was he to blame for what happened
to Marci? If so, I’d bury the fucker! “You know, I
couldn’t face you when Laura died. I called
Richard…”

 

She flinched again and whimpered. Her rocking increased. I didn’t
need a verbal response from her. Her actions alone spoke volumes. I’d
have to ask Outlaw to find him for me, which meant I’d have to tell at
least one person I knew Marci and how we were connected. I took the risk of
moving even closer to her and went down on one knee in front of her. She
froze, her eyes slowly focusing on me. Once she seemed to come back to
herself a little, her eyes filled with tears, and she flung herself into my
arms.

 

“I’ve got you, Marci. Everything will be fine now.” I
rubbed her back and held her tight, letting her soak my cut and tee with her
tears. When her cries quieted, I stood and lifted her into my arms. I
hesitated to take her to the bedroom she’d been using. I felt like I
needed to get her out of the apartment. The more she cried, the more urgent
it felt to get her somewhere I could make her feel safe. Clearly, this
wasn’t it.

 

Instead, I found myself carrying her outside and walking to my house. Thank
goodness I didn’t live at the back of the compound. I managed to let
myself in without setting her down or dropping her, then took her straight
to the living room. Easing her down onto the couch, I smoothed her hair back
from her face.

 

“This is my house. You’ll be safe here, all right?”

 

She gave me a slight nod, then curled into the corner of the couch. I went
back to close and lock the door. As I twisted the bolt into place, I stared
at it. In all the years I’d lived here, not once had I locked my door.
For the first time in ten years, I had someone to protect, and this time
I’d do a better job of it.

 

Marci was no longer the teenager who’d brightly smiled at me and
asked a million questions about what it was like to be part of a motorcycle
club. She’d grown into a beautiful woman. The thought of her being
abused made me grind my teeth. She should have had a loving home, a ton of
friends, and been away at college right now. Instead, she’d been
tossed into hell, most likely by her brother.

 

When I got back to the living room, she’d closed her eyes but
wasn’t quite asleep. She peeked at me, letting me know she was aware
of her surroundings. It was an improvement over how I’d found
her.

 

“How old are you now, Marci? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?” I
asked.

 

“I don’t know. I lost track of time.”

 

I tried to hold in my anger over the situation so I wouldn’t scare
her. For her to make such a statement meant she’d been with
Vega’s men for a while. Or possibly someone before them.

 

“Then can you tell me what happened? Last I heard, your brother was
going to take you in until you were old enough to make it on your
own.” Her lower lip trembled, and she picked at her fingernails. I
reached over to place my hand over hers. “No one here will hurt you,
Marci. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

 

Again, I silently added, because I damn sure felt responsible right now. If
I’d kept in touch or checked up on her, would this have
happened?

 

 

Stitches teaser

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde’s website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts
and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok: @harleywylde

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and X: @changelingpress

 

Preorder Today

 

 

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I Smile at the Sun Blitz

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Verse for Children and Misidentified Grownups

Children’s Poetry

Date Published: September 19, 2023

 

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Each poem is a celebration of life.

Between Judith Barrett Lawson’s clever wordplay, and the delightful
illustrations by Netta Jones, I Smile at the Sun will transport readers on a
whimsical journey through childhood — it’s joys, silly mishaps, and small
everyday wonders. Yet you don’t have to be a child to smile at I Smile at
the Sun.

In the Tradition of Shel Silverstein and Jack Prelutsky, but in her own
unique voice, Lawson brings together lighthearted humor with heartfelt
insights, offering friendly wisdom on growing up, loss, and the importance
of dreams.

If you grew up reading Dr. Seuss and love fun tongue-twisting rhymes, then
you’ve come to the right place. Judith Barrett Lawson has written an amazing
poem book that is not only just for kids but also Misidentified Grown-ups.

Immerse yourself in I Smile at the Sun and relive treasured memories, share
its magic, and let Judith Barrett Lawson’s poetic enchantment illuminate
your day.

About the Author

Judith Lawson

Writer, screenwriter, playwright, and lyricist Judith Lawson worked in film
and television casting for 10 years. She is co-author of screenplay based on
award-winning author Kaye Gibbon’s novel Sights Unseen. She has had
more than 35 song cuts recorded, and her play of I Smile at the Sun has been
produced four times to stellar reviews.

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