Memoir Feature: Always Yours, Bee #promo #releaseday #memoir #nonfiction #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 

 

Memoir

Date Published: 3/2/21

Publisher: FinnStar Publishing

"There's a guy. He was hit by a truck."

On a rainy November day, Mia Hayes' husband left for work on his Vespa. Normally, she would have driven him, but Mia was waiting on a phone call with an editor and didn't have time.

She never saw that caring, loving version of her husband again.

The fallout from his accident--Mia's guilt and her husband's PTSD, memory loss, and depression--consumed their lives over the next five years as her laid-back husband changed into an angry man with few memories of their past. Desperate to hold her fragile family together, Mia ignored her own unraveling and plunged into bipolar depression.

As she searched for answers to unanswerable questions, Mia moved her family from San Francisco to Paris, France before landing in a leafy Washington, D.C. suburb where she tried to find a fresh start only to become embroiled in a scandal of her own making.

Through ups and downs, mental illness and bad decisions, Mia struggled with what it means to be a good wife and mother, whether saving her marriage was worth the pain, and understanding that healing is a personal journey.

Always Yours, Bee is a heartbreaking yet triumphant and brave look at a woman, a marriage, and a family falling apart and coming out stronger. Told with clarity and introspection, it captures the terror of losing the person closest to you—yourself.

Excerpt

Prologue

November 2004

Lemonade light filtered through the fog, casting a warm, golden tone across us as we watched Ryan run down the empty beach, a kite string clenched in his tiny fist.

November usually brought rain to San Francisco, but this particular day was clear, and we wanted to take advantage of the sun—even if it was chilly and damp out. Surfers bobbed off the coast, waiting for their ride, and gulls skittered along the shoreline. Later, after we ate our picnic lunch, we planned on exploring the tide pools.

James snapped a picture of Leo and me snuggled into a fleecy blanket. I waved him over to us, and he settled into the sand, his jean-clad leg touching mine. He tossed his arm over my shoulder and hugged me close.

“This is nice,” he said. Ryan had stopped running to inspect something on the beach, and Leo crawled off my lap into the sand. “But this is more fun.” James turned and tried to tickle me through my layers of bulky clothes.

We laughed and smiled and were so very happy.

That’s how I want to remember us.

Golden.

About the Author

Mia is a notorious eavesdropper who lives in Northern Virginia, outside Washington DC, with her husband, sons, two cats, and Harlow the Cavapoo.

She drinks too much green tea, loves traveling, and has mastered the art of procrastination cleaning.

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Sci-Fi Feature: Atlantis: City of Mages #promo #scifi #urbanfantasy #fantasy #giveaway #releaseday #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @AuthorParul

 

 

Sci-fi, Urban fantasy

Date Published: Initially published on 12.21.12, revised version 03.02.2021

It was meant to be a place where knowledge could be exchanged peacefully between humans and advanced beings who live among the stars.

It was meant to be a place where amazing feats of science could accelerate the evolution of humankind.

Now, lost and forgotten, the isle drifts aimlessly on the fabric of time and space.

Those who linger on Atlantis use her technology to thieve treasure and fuel the ever-growing greed of the population.

Something powerful has been stolen and Atlantis is now treading close to the waters of karma and fate.

Is it too late to change what has been done?

EXCERPT

Even as one of the last war-raging dragons approached Oberon, he lingered in the vast canyon of his thoughts. She slithered up to him, raised her head and arched her neck, ready to fire. The stream of fire, hotter than magma, shot at him with deadly accuracy.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Campanula shouted as she sprinted toward the conflict. The displaced sand shot up with force as she dug her knee in the beach for support. Aiming the hand cannon steadily with both hands, she fired a warning shot across the dragon’s nose.

Though it was just a graze, the pain was searing hot to the dragon, and it had bought Oberon some time to roll out of the way. The dragon had an overprotective mate who butted in, and with his gauntlet, he shoved Campanula so hard that he threw her into a nearby tree. She laid in the cold, wet sand trying to catch the breath that escaped her lungs. The male dragon went in for the kill. Getting up onto his feet, Oberon left his thoughts to save his friend. With all of his might, Oberon summoned strength into his hands, formed an energy blast and launched it at the dragon. The blow sent the dragon into a cluster of ice-glazed trees toward the inland far past Campanula, which was dangerously close to the death. The dragon tumbled out of the trees and landed on his back in the melting snow. He sat there taking a moment to collect himself.

“Enough!” Oberon shouted almost as if he was a drunken, old, bitter man. Even his body movements were jerky as he stumbled around. “We didn’t kill your children. Those responsible are dead. Just leave us alone!” He fell to knees out of exhaustion. Campanula rushed to his side.

Campanula knew what his anger really stemmed from. “You can’t give up. Your family is out there. I know it!” Oberon didn’t seem to care what she had to say. He was so worn out that he did a face plant. “Oberon, look, you have got to see this!”

Oberon raised his head, and through sand-covered eyes, he saw a band of rainbow light, almost like the northern lights, fly from Mt. Caspen headed to the shore. Surely it was his wife accompanied by the Bennu. From his left, there came a bright white flash. When he looked over, he saw his daughter and her friends fall on their butts in the sand.

About The Author

M. Arcturus was born and raised in the Midwest. Yearning to break free from a mundane life, she writes after hours hoping that one day her life will be launched in a whole new direction. Even though her stories are immersed in fiction, she dedicates a lot of time in researching science and history to create believable events and environments to assist the reader along their journey within her books.

Atlantis: City of Mages is her first published book; however, her poetry has been published in several publications such as: 2005 Labours of Love by Noble House Publishers Poetry Division, 2003 Gardens of Youth by The International Library of Poetry, and 1999 Poetic Voices of America by Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum. She is currently working on the sequel to Atlantis as well as another science fiction book, a poetry book, and a children’s book.

Her greatest aspiration is for her books to stir the imagination in others and even create a bit of controversy. She wants her readers to form their own ideas surrounding the topics she writes about. She believes that every point of view has the ability to expand knowledge and spur people into action to follow their dreams and pursue their personal truth.

When she is not writing on her books, you can find her on paranormal investigations, painting, working on her photography skills, and seeking new adventures.

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Women's Fiction Feature: Joyous Lies by @MargAnnSpence #blogtour #bookreview #womensfiction #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 

Women’s Fiction

Date Published: February 15, 2021

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Maelle Woolley, a shy botanist, prefers plants to people. They don't suddenly disappear. Raised on her grandparents' commune after her mother's mysterious death, she follows the commune's utopian beliefs of love for all. Then she falls for attractive psychiatrist Zachary Kane. When Zachary claims her mother and his father never emerged alive from his father's medical research lab, Maelle investigates. What she discovers will challenge everything she believes, force her to find strength she never knew she had, and confront the commune's secrets and lies. What happened to love? And can it survive?

Review

This book is deep. It deals with real life issues, it's honest and doesn't skirt around things. 

The author really brings us a strong female lead. I loved how we could connect with her from the start.

Full of ups and downs, light and comedic moments to lighten things, and a great cast of characters. 

I loved that it was not too bogged down. It's a quick read that is full of so much but actually short. 

About The Author

Margaret Ann Spence writes about women, the choices they make, and what happens next. Her debut novel, Lipstick on the Strawberry, published by the Wild Rose Press in 2017, won the Romantic Elements Category in the First Coast Romance Writers 2015 Beacon Contest. It was a finalist for the 2019 Eric Hoffer Book Award and in the 2019 Next Generation Indie Awards. Joyous Lies, her second novel, launches on February 15, 2021.

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Sci-Fi Feature: The Devil Whispered @Stark_Books #promo #scifi #mystery #rabtbooktours #giveaway @RABTBookTours

 

 

Science-Fiction/Mystery/Detective

Date Published: 3/1/2021

Retired special-forces commander Jacobi Slate is drawn into a downward-spiraling vortex of fear and doubt while investigating a brutal murder committed by an old friend. As evidence mounts that someone else might be pulling strings from the shadows, Jacobi struggles to understand a developing connection to his own past, which is quickly catching up to him.

Near-future cyberpunk collides with gritty detective noir in this fast-paced thriller that shines a light on both the vast shortcomings and the noble heroism of the human condition. To unravel the mystery, Jacobi will pull on every thread while chasing leads from the squalor of the most dangerous streets to the high-tech towers of the wealthy elite on his quest to understand a truth he might not be ready to face.

Excerpt

My consciousness snapped online with abrupt decisiveness. I had the acute feeling of being alone in a world that was wrongly serene, like the silence of the dead. I’d been dreaming of something horrifying, but the details were dancing just outside the boundary of my ability to recall. The panic I’d woken with was caught in my chest. It held me frozen to the sheets as my mind reconfigured to the safety and familiarity of my apartment. Though the context of the dream was faded and surreal, the fear was vivid and raw. It was a visceral terror, compounded by a deeply rooted aversion to vulnerability.

As I lay there, waiting for the sensation of cold dread to die away, the room was unceremoniously lit up by the glow of the wide monitor that comprised the wall opposite my bed. Shielding my eyes from the sting of the sudden light, I heard Ava, my virtual concierge, ask if I would like to receive a call.

“Who’s calling?” I asked with what little energy I’d mustered.

“A Pavel Volkov is awaiting your response.” Her voice was always the same, mildly empathetic with a touch of encouragement.

I wrapped the sheet around me and grudgingly pulled myself up to sit on the side of the bed. Looking out from the tall windows that constituted the eastern-facing wall of my bedroom, I saw that it was still deep in the night. The only radiance beyond the panes was generated by the city itself; from the broken lines of luminous code emanating from the trickling streams of traffic far below, and the windows of the high-rises that towered above them - light and dark, the ones and zeroes of a binary skyline.

“Yeah, okay.”

Then, Pavel’s finely kempt visage was smiling keenly at me from my wall. He was standing on a rocky beach, and waves were lapping at the shore behind him. He wore a white silk suit and a bemused expression that seemed inappropriately unapologetic.

“It’s late, Pavel.”

“Good morning, Jacobi. My apologies for contacting you at this hour, but I thought you’d want to know that I’ve located the target.”

“Where are you?”

“I’ll send coordinates to your CUBE.”

Pavel Volkov was a liar and a thief. He’d conned so many wealthy aristocrats that he’d become one himself, but he stayed in the game for the sake of his own twisted entertainment. He was an artist, who specialized in painting perfect illusions. Deception was his medium, but I’d worked with him for long enough that I trusted him when it came to getting the job done. Traces of malaise from my restless sleep were lingering, so the notion of lucid wakefulness was a welcome one.

“I’m on my way,” I said. “End call.”

Pavel’s smirking face faded as the monitor went dark, and I was left with only my thoughts and the reiterating cycles of light from the softly glowing city outside. In the silence, I heard the faint percussion of fiery horse hooves falling away as the nightmare visiting me surrendered the assault and retreated to the depths of wherever dark dreams were designed.

About the Author

Shawn lives in Massachusetts with his wife and the handful of childhood stuffed animals that they’ve been unable to part ways with, even despite the awkward situation it occasionally puts their house guests in. He wields a coveted Associates of Liberal Arts degree from Greenfield Community college in an overly enthusiastic, flailing manner, and puts it to work writing both fantasy and science fiction stories. Using subliminal codes and hidden messaging carefully placed throughout his books, he plans to captivate the minds of his readers and insidiously manipulate them into purchasing subsequent releases.

As a novelist, musician, graphic designer, and a purveyor of fine games, Shawn is often confused about exactly who he is when he wakes up in the morning. It’s been said (by him) that perhaps he embodies all of these things so equally that a singular definition could not comprehensively impart a satisfactory description. With your support, and a sufficient demand for more novels, he secretly hopes that he’ll have no choice but to formally acknowledge the prevailing label of ‘author’ and spend the rest of his days providing a sense of wonder and adventure to everyone who helped him solidify his nebulous identity.

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Literary Fiction Feature: No Birds Sing Here by @AuthorMeier #promo #releaseday #giveaway #fiction #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 

 

Literary Fiction

Date Published: March 1, 2021

Publisher: Boutique of Quality Books

In this indelible and deeply moving portrait of our time, two young pseudo-intellectuals, Beckman and Malany, set out on an odyssey to define the artistic life, and in doing so, unleash a barrage of humorous, unintended consequences. NO BIRDS SING HERE is a multi-layered novel about a Post-Modernist America in which characters are struggling to survive in an increasingly chaotic world.

Excerpt

Beckman thought that this would be an excellent metaphor for his first novel, just the thing he had been looking for. Often during that month, the screaming cats got to him. The very first notes would send him raging to the window to fling it open and shout down, “Quiet!” The cats hardly glanced up. It was apparent that they were somewhere outside of his control.

About The Author

A retired Aviation Safety Inspector for the FAA, Daniel V. Meier, Jr. has always had a passion for writing. During his college years, he studied History at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington (UNCW) and American Literature at The University of Maryland Graduate School. In 1980 he published an action/thriller with Leisure Books under the pen name of Vince Daniels.

He also worked for the Washington Business Journal as a journalist and has been a contributing writer/editor for several aviation magazines. In addition to, No Birds Sing Here, he is the author of the award-winning historical novel, The Dung Beetles of Liberia that was released in September 2019 by BQB Publishing.

Dan and his wife live in Owings, Maryland, about twenty miles south of Annapolis and when he's not writing, they spend their summers sailing on the Chesapeake Bay.

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Thriller Feature: The Black Candle Killings #promo #releaseday #thriller #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @HappyLDNpress

 

 

Conspiracy Series, Book 3

Detective Thriller

Date Published: March 1st 2021

Publisher: Happy London Press

A church going district of North London and a neighbourhood where friendly residents know each other. But when a brutally murdered woman is found next to a burned-out black candle, a strange mark etched deep into her back, the locals became afraid.

Her old boss, a Chief Superintendent in the Met, calls for PI, Tammy Pierre’s assistance. He’s aware of her Caribbean links, and knowledge of Obiah, a voodoo curse found in Trinidad, and used, some claim, to commit bizarre murders. So, is it voodoo? Or just superstition?

A trip to the West Indies reveals some disturbing facts, new evidence of child abuse and murders going undetected for over twenty years.

Returning to London, her situation becomes dangerous – is it all more than Tammy had bargained for?

About The Author

Having never written a dramatic word in my life some thirty years ago, an idea for a short story popped into my head. With the encouragement of my wife and daughter I wrote a tale about a timid and ineffectual man and his pet cat, called Cat and Mouse. Wife and daughter approved so I produced more stories and then joined a writers’ group who also liked what I wrote.

Sir George Everest said, they climbed that mountain, ‘Because it is there.’ The same might be said of writing. Why do we write? because of the idea, the notion, the thought. ‘Because it is there,’ and the irresistible urge to put it down in print.

My inspirations have come from real people, events or situations that have presented themselves. Titles like, I am a Contract Killer, Beads of Blood, Death Zone, License to Kill, are all based on my own lifetime experiences, questions asked, incidents occurring. So far, nobody has been murdered on my watch. But the notion gave rise to the impetus to write my first murder mystery, The Lyme Regis Murders. Could I make the jump after years of writing macabre short stories to a full-length drama? That familiar beating in the gut, said, ‘Yes, try it. Give it a go.’

And so to that cosy coastal town where nothing untoward ever happens. Or perhaps it does. The author seeks to shatter notions, change people’s perceptions, spoil long held views. That was my intention in entering into the world of crime thrillers. I’ve found that ‘nice’ people are not always what they seem. The helpless can be transformed into the most dangerous, the most dangerous become the most harmless. It’s all up to the writer and what they’re hoping to achieve. For me, so far, there have been several children’s books, one collection of short stories, with three more planned and three novels completed, plus a fourth in the mixer.

Whilst a short story might be written with a flurry of adrenalin in the space of a few hours, a book will need more than just a flash of creativity. It will need, perseverance, discipline and dogged determination. But then, isn’t that what is required of every ambition?

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Suspense Feature: Thieves by @gfjolle #promo #suspense #releaseday #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 

 

The Obscurité de Floride Trilogy

Suspense

Date Published: March 1, 2021

Publisher: Épouvantail Books

From Tropea, Italy to Michigan and Florida, the thieves Molly and April Danser are on the run, trying to escape from an enraged ex-US Marshal. He is hell bent on stopping them once and for all, his twisted black heart fired up for revenge and their total destruction. Will the sisters elude his blood-soaked hunt? They have their smarts and resource but have never faced a pursuit like this.

Can they somehow put an end to his blood lust?

What will they have to do to save themselves from his powerful and deadly claws?

The hunt is on…

Excerpt

Detective Richard ‘Rick’ Ables, Jr. arrived at the Tropea apartment early the next morning, missing the Danser sisters by more than thirty-six hours. Not his fault, the incompetent and greedy airlines had once again dog-fucked his best-laid itinerary. Having flashed his revoked US Marshal badge, he had walked and examined the girls’ rooms with the Mrs. Gior-something trailing and complaining, her Italian sounding like tipsy Mexican. The rooms had been wiped and cleaned for new guests, and as he stood on the front porch looking down at the ancient and sun-stupid town, his lower throat gorged with the bile of frustration.

Descending the stairs to the street, he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, irritated further by the heat and air that felt mottled with sand and the smell of sea rot. He set the case binder on the roof of his pop can of a budget rental, unlocked the door, and climbed in behind the wheel. Syncing his SAT phone with his laptop, he opened the binder in his lap while a connection was made to his server back in Michigan. The first tab was the detailed chronology of the pursuit, which he updated with his pocket pen, characterizing the Tropea search as an empty gator hole. The laptop pinged, and he pulled it over from the passenger seat.

His slow-witted inside source had let him in on Molly’s strange motorcycle racing life. Details from the search launched before arriving in this ass-up Italian town appeared as red flag icons on a map display. One was in coastal China in a city called Yantai. The second was near the Bristol shores in Britain. Doubting the girls had the juice to get into communist slant land, he did a search on the UK event, skimming the summary deep enough to see that the race was in two weeks.

“It smells right.” He allowed his thoughts to rewind to the last time he was in Britain. “This whole nut sack began there.”

About The Author

Greg Jolley earned a Master of Arts in Writing from the University of San Francisco and lives in the very small town of Ormond Beach, Florida. When not writing, he researches historical crime, primarily those of the 1800s. Or goes surfing.

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