Aunt Ivy’s Cottage by Kristin Harper ~ Book Excerpt ~ Blog Tour

Book Description: 

Clearing out the attic, Zoey opens the carved trunk and smiles as she picks up the small, leather-bound diary hiding inside. Curious, she leafs through the pages, and realises this will change everything…

All Zoey’s happiest childhood memories are of her great-aunt Ivy’s rickety cottage on Dune Island, snuggling up with hot chocolate and hearing Ivy’s stories about being married to a sea captain. Now, heartbroken from a breakup, Zoey escapes back to the island, but is shocked to find her elderly aunt’s spark fading. Worse, her cousin—next in line to inherit the house—is pushing Ivy to move into a nursing home.

With the family clashing over what’s best for Ivy, Zoey is surprised when Nick, a local carpenter and Ivy’s neighbor, takes her side. As Zoey finds comfort in his sea-blue eyes and warm laugh, the two grow close. Together, they make a discovery in the attic that links the family to the mysterious and reclusive local lighthouse keeper…

Now Zoey has a heartbreaking choice to make. Nick’s urging her to share the discovery, which could keep Ivy in the house she’s loved her whole life… but when Zoey learns that Nick and her cousin go way back, she questions if the man she‘s starting to have feelings for really has Ivy’s best interests at heart. Will dredging up this old secret destroy the peace and happiness of Ivy’s final years—and tear this family apart for good?

A stunning and emotional read about old secrets, new love and never forgetting the importance of family. Perfect for fans of Mary Ellen Taylor, Robyn Carr and Mary Alice Monroe.

Purchase a copy on Amazon. 

About the author

Ever since she was a young girl, there were few things Kristin Harper liked more than creative writing and spending time on Cape Cod, Massachusetts, with her family. Eventually (after a succession of jobs that bored her to tears), she found a way to combine those two passions by becoming a women’s fiction author whose stories occur in oceanside settings. While Kristin doesn’t live on the Cape year-round, she escapes to the beach whenever she can.

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Excerpt from Aunt Ivy's Cottage

Prologue 

The daffodils that were meant to brighten the room were already going limp in their vase and Zoey Jansen felt as if she were wilting, too. It was a sunny afternoon in mid-April, but the thermostat was set at seventy-four. Zoey’s sweater stuck to the small of her back and she wiped perspiration from her upper lip. Yet her great-aunt Sylvia, who was covered to her chest with a quilt, kept saying she was cold.

Zoey lifted the blankets only enough to gently place a freshly filled hot-water bottle into her aunt’s hands. “This should help warm you up.”

“Mmm,” Sylvia murmured drowsily, her eyes closed. “You’ve always been so good to me, Ivy. More like a sister than my own sisters.”

She thinks I’m my great-aunt Ivy. Zoey didn’t correct her mistake. Sylvia had been so restless the past several days that she didn’t want to rouse her if she was finally sleepy. As she started to withdraw her hand from beneath the blankets, Sylvia feebly grasped her fingers.

“Don’t go. I need—” her voice crackled. Assuming what Sylvia needed was a cool drink, Zoey reached for the water glass on the nightstand but her aunt tugged her hand again, pulling her closer. “I need to tell you something important.” Zoey touched her shoulder to reassure her that she had her full attention. “What is it?”

“Mark doesn’t deserve this,” Sylvia uttered. “It’s not fair. I can’t let it happen.” Mark—whose given name was Marcus—was Sylvia’s grandson. Ivy’s great-nephew. And Zoey’s cousin. His second wife had recently divorced him and Zoey figured that was what Sylvia meant was unfair. The old woman had always doted on her only grandchild, so Zoey understood it must have been upsetting for her to realize not every woman thought the sun rose and set on Marcus Winslow III. Struggling to say something that was honest yet kind, Zoey resorted to one of the platitudes she’d often heard Sylvia use. “Sometimes, these things have a way of working out for the best for everyone.” Especially for his wife.

“No, no. That boy can only take so much.” Sylvia wiggled her head back and forth against the pillow, clearly agitated. “Enough is enough.”

Zoey gently pulled her hand free to smooth down her aunt’s flyaway hair, vaguely aware of how self-conscious Sylvia was about her appearance, even now, at eighty-four. “He can take it. He’s a lot stronger than you think.” Some might even say he’s a bully.

“What about Zoey? She’s such a dear girl. I’m concerned about her.”

“She’ll be fine. She’ll find another job soon.”

“What if she doesn’t? She’s lost all of her savings and she can’t pay her mortgage. Where will she live?”

Zoey’s breath caught. She had told her great-aunts she’d been laid off from her job as a librarian when the city closed the branch where she worked, but how had Sylvia found out that she’d lost her savings and was on the brink of losing her townhome? Zoey hadn’t wanted to burden her aunts by telling them that the guy she’d been seeing for the past year, a financial planner, had risked—and blown—all of her savings in a series of investments that turned out to be just shy of illegal. And she was too ashamed to admit she hadn’t even realized what he’d done until she tried to withdraw money from her depleted retirement funds to pay her mortgage.

Guessing that her aunt must have overheard her ranting about it on the phone to her friend, Lauren, she pleaded, “I know you’re worried about me, Aunt Sylvia, but Aunt Ivy can’t find out about that yet. She’ll get upset and stress is bad for her heart. When the time is right, I’ll talk to her about it. Meanwhile, please promise you won’t tell her.”

Upon hearing Zoey call her aunt, Sylvia opened her eyes and blinked in apparent surprise. Then she knitted her brows together, agreeing, “You’re right. It’ll be our secret.”

“Thank you.” As her aunt’s eyelids fell shut again, Zoey stood to leave.

But Sylvia added in a raspy voice, “For now, it’s best to let the past stay buried in the past… beneath the roses.” What does that mean? Although her aunt’s health had been improving, Zoey wondered if she was feverish again. She leaned down and kissed her forehead. No, no fever…Yesterday, right before dozing off, she’d rambled on and on about dancing in the stars. When she woke, she had no recollection of having said anything and they concluded she’d been dreaming. Maybe she was only semi-awake now, too.

Zoey waited. When Sylvia didn’t say anything else, she straightened her posture and tiptoed across the room toward the heavy old door, slightly ajar. Aware it would creak if she opened it any farther, Zoey turned sideways to ease across the threshold. Before she left, she impulsively stopped to glance back at the bed and whisper, “I love you, Auntie. Sleep well.” 

~*Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions and thoughts are my own. *~

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The Suicide Season by Jeremy Gadd ~ Excerpt & Free Book Giveaway!

Excerpt from The Suicide Season by Jeremy Gadd ~ Get your FREE ebook copy below! 

Yeats motored on. He imagined the angler in the pub that night, telling his story about the huge fish that had got away, breaking his rod to do so. Yeats couldn’t be bothered to fish. He neither expected a strike nor now to meet Crumb. The shadows were lengthening when he entered a previously unexplored section of waterway and saw a punt in centre stream ahead of him. The wind had dropped, and the water lay unruffled, disturbed only by the legs of a water-walking insect or fish fin. The punt held two men. They were both standing and casting into the lilies along either side of the arm. As Yeats came closer he saw they were oriental, possibly Indonesian. One was obviously older than the other and wore all white: a hat, shirt, and baggy trousers. His younger companion was similarly dressed but wore a baseball cap instead of a hat.

They were using fly rods of thin bamboo, and they flicked and whipped their lures along the edge of the lilies with skill. As they worked their lures, they changed places in the punt with, what seemed to Yeats, to be a sixth sense, each knowing exactly where the other was so that the punt was never destabilised and they never got in each other’s way. They cast and retrieved with ease and poise worthy of artistry found on the Opera house or Covent Garden stages, yet one false step and the yellow water of the billabong could part to reveal the villain of the melodrama, with a fixed grin but no moustache.

Yeats followed behind them as they worked along the billabong, mesmerised by the knowledge that their dance of cast and shuffle could become a dance of death. They saw him and acknowledged his presence with short bows before continuing. Although the width between the banks remained constant, the channel narrowed where water lilies had spread almost from one side to the other. The punt with the balletic Asians on board slowly turned into another channel and Yeats, sprawled in his punt and lazily somnambulant with the hypnotic effect of having watched the fishermen repeatedly cast and collect, motored slowly on.

The perfume from the lilies was almost overpowering, and Yeats felt heady. He couldn’t believe the beauty of the place. Even the name, Fire Dreaming Island, had a beauty and mystery about it. If the trip had led him here and nowhere else, it would have made the journey worthwhile. Yeats felt ecstatic. This experience almost compensated for the dilemma in which he now found himself. At that moment, his fishing rod, which he had rested behind him, its lure dangling and occasionally touching the water, bent downwards. The tug became a pull, and then the reel whined as line ran out, cleaving the water like wire through cheese. Yeats grabbed the rod and applied the tension, and a fish leapt out of the billabong. Bright in the sunlight and beautiful to behold, it tail-danced across the water, shaking its head to throw the lure. Yeats tried to reel in the slack line created by the fish’s leap for freedom but couldn’t keep sufficient tension on the line. The fish leapt a second time, and shaking its head again, tossed the lure-free. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. Yeats sat trembling in the punt, his breath shallow, his eyes wide with wonder. Yeats was disappointed, yet glad the fish had got away.

He smelled the familiar cigarette smoke before he heard the familiar voice.

“That’s not how I taught you how to fish, Wazza.”

The voice came from over his shoulder, and Yeats turned to see Crumb standing on the bank about three or four metres from the punt.

Purchase a copy for your favorite book outlet or save 25% off on Stormbird Press site with coupon code sp-suicideseason-25. 

Grab a FREE download ebook copy when downloading from Stormbird Press BookFunnel page. 

About the Author:

Jeremy Gadd is an Australian author and poet. After graduating from the National Institute of Dramatic Art, he worked extensively in professional theatre in Australia and the United Kingdom before concentrating on his writing, which includes plays, the publication of novels, fifty short stories and poetry. He has also written dialogue for a dance performed by The Sydney Dance Company at the Sydney Opera House. He later earned Master of Arts with Honours and PhD degrees from the University of New England. He is a Writing Fellow of the Fellowship of Australian Writers.

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Talking about Depression by Cindy Stulberg and Ronald Frey ~ An Excerpt from Feeling Better

For years, the first line of defense for depression has been pharmaceuticals, but in their new book Feeling Better: Beat Depression and Improve Your Relationships with Interpersonal Psychotherapy (New World Library, November 20, 2018), psychologists and authors Cindy Goodman Stulberg and Ronald J. Frey, PhD, say that it is actually our relationships that offer the most effective path to healing.

Knowing that depression is an illness as legitimate as any physical ailment, Feeling Better helps readers get clarity around the four main areas in life that can be contributing factors to why people feel sad, blue, down, and depressed: life transitions, complicated grief, interpersonal conflict, or social isolation. We hope you’ll enjoy this excerpt from the book.

# # #

If you’ve been keeping your depression to yourself, it’s time to share the burden with someone else. If we let others know about our temporary limitations, we’re more likely to receive support for our efforts and new ideas for how to cope. Opening up also gives others the opportunity to share their struggles with us — experiences we may never have known they had. Suddenly, we don’t feel so alone anymore.

It’s normal to feel shy, scared, embarrassed, and anxious about telling people. Many of us — me included — have our feelings of self-worth tied up with being seen as one of those people who have their act together. (It’s common among people in helping professions. We help others, but we don’t always have the skills to help ourselves.) If you’re used to being the capable one, it can feel uncomfortable to admit to others that you’re struggling. Plus, if you haven’t reached out for help before, you don’t know it’s possible for someone to offer you support and show they care.

The first step is to acknowledge that being strong isn’t always a strength. The next is to imagine a different future, one where there’s a little more give-and-take in your relationships. Many people will want to help you as much as you want to help them. Let them in.

Don’t feel you have to tell everyone about your depression. Start with one or two people who are affected by your illness or who you think will be understanding.

It’s usually helpful to share the symptoms of depression with the person you’re confiding in. That way you both have the same understanding of the many physical and emotional impacts of the illness and can speak a common language. Let the person know that you’re working hard to feel better. Explain that you need to take a break from some of the things you usually do to give yourself the time and energy to make positive changes. Reassure them that the situation is temporary. Listen to their concerns, and be open to their suggestions.

Some people will really understand. Some may offer to help. (Don’t refuse the casserole.) Some might not get it; you can sense they’re trying, but they’re struggling to empathize. If that person is close to you or you need their help with some of your responsibilities, try sharing this chapter of the book with them. Of course, you won’t want to assign reading homework to a person who isn’t a reader. Instead, show them the book and talk them through the important information, as in a highlight reel or postgame recap. They’ll get the point that your information comes from a credible source — the book — but they won’t have to read it themselves.

Unfortunately, some people might not be supportive at all. You can’t change that. But at least you’ll know who you can turn to the next time you need advice or assistance. Try not to blame those who don’t understand. They may show their support through actions, not words, by doing things like fixing the car or spending more time with the kids.

Many people who have depression stop socializing, and their isolation may be compounded by other circumstances, for example, a move to a new city, the arrival of a new baby, a spouse who travels a lot, or the lack of a strong support system. John, for example, never felt he had kind, caring friends or family. Admitting to himself that he was depressed has been hard enough, because it feels like one more way he’s failed. How is he supposed to share that with the very people who are responsible for his feelings of inadequacy?

If, like John, you feel there’s no one you can talk to about your depression, we encourage you to open up to one person anyway. John swallows his pride and tells his brother (the most supportive of his unsupportive siblings) about how he’s feeling. First, he explains the symptoms. Then he says that he’s working on getting better. His brother expected John to say the things he’s said so many times before: “I’d feel better if I had a girlfriend,” “The problem is my job,” “I just need more money,” “If I’d stayed in school, this wouldn’t be happening,” “It’s because I’m living with Mom and Dad.” When John’s brother doesn’t hear John singing the same old tune, he’s pleasantly surprised. He praises John for making an effort — a first in their relationship.

Often our words are received poorly not because of what we want to say, but because of how we say it. It takes a little self-reflection to recognize the patterns in the way we communicate with the people in our lives, but it’s worth taking a look. John’s go-to style has been to make excuses and blame others. You may find, like John, that making a change in the way you communicate helps you feel you have someone to talk to. It’s not something you can accomplish overnight, but now’s as good a time as any to start — and we’ll continue working on this together over the weeks ahead.

You may feel there’s no one you can talk to about your depression because, in your family and community, talk of mental illness is shameful and therefore off-limits. You may worry that if it gets out that you’re depressed, it could affect your future. Rest assured, there will be someone you can talk to. That person may be outside your immediate family or cultural community. They may be more of an acquaintance than a friend, or they may be a professional.

# # #

Cindy Goodman Stulberg, DCS, CPsych, and Ronald J. Frey, PhD, CPsych, are the authors of Feeling Better and directors of the Institute for Interpersonal Psychotherapy. Visit them online at http://interpersonalpsychotherapy.com.

Excerpted from the book Feeling Better. Copyright ©2018 by Cindy Goodman Stulberg and Ronald J. Frey. Printed with permission from New World Library — www.newworldlibrary.com.

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The Jewel of Abundance by Ellen Grace O'Brian ~ Book Excerpt

A Grateful Generous Heart 

An excerpt from The Jewel of Abundance by Ellen Grace O’Brian 

Although millions of Westerners practice yoga simply for its health benefits, the philosophy and wisdom behind the multifaceted discipline have far more to offer. In The Jewel of Abundance: Finding Prosperity through the Ancient Wisdom of Yoga, award-winning author and Kriya Yoga teacher Ellen Grace O’Brian reveals an overlooked aspect of yoga: its powerful teachings on prosperity. She draws upon the ancient Vedic tradition of yoga philosophy and practice and shows how spirituality and earthly success can complement each other, leading to realization of the higher Self. O’Brian presents a clear explanation of both the philosophy of yoga and the nuts and bolts of practice, such as setting up a daily meditation routine, incorporating mantras, discerning how to cooperate with universal principles for complete well-being, and cultivating mindfulness in action. We hope you’ll enjoy this excerpt from the book. 

# # # 

A grateful heart is a magnet that draws to us what is harmonious and good. This idea is reflected in a playful metaphysical adage: not, “We see things as they are,” but, “We see things as we are.” In other words, our state of mind and consciousness color our perception and determine how we see and experience things. Taken a step further, this dynamic explains how we also then draw to us what corresponds with our consciousness. When our hearts are grateful, when we approach others and life itself with gratitude for all that is given, we generally reap more of the same. The opposite is true as well. When we’re down and depressed and can’t see much good anywhere — that experience will tend to compound itself. 

Life in the manifest realm is mixed — light and dark, hot and cold, day and night, up and down, fast and slow, and so on it goes. But beyond all duality and changing phenomena is the unchanging Absolute Reality that we can know as good, as whole and completely supportive of its divine purpose. Isn’t it better for us to call forth the good in every situation? To call it forth in every moment? We can do this through training our mind to extract what is good, what is praiseworthy or useful, and gratitude is one way to do that. Simply look deeply into any relationship, or any situation, and ask what there is to be grateful for. There is always something. When we find it, and call it forth, our heart opens and we become more receptive to the presence of divine grace at hand. 

Which comes first, gratitude or grace? They seem to arise together. Gratitude is our natural response to the gift of grace, and gratitude itself opens us to the awareness of ever-present divine support. When we work hard toward something and accomplish it, or desire something and attain it, we generally feel good, and along with that we feel some relief — a kind of “job well done!” out-breath. A very different feeling arises when we become aware of the powerful presence of divine grace that has allowed us to experience more than we ever could have without divine support. On those occasions, we feel something else. We feel awe. We are amazed, inspired, and yes, grateful. 

The distinction between relief and awe is a good indicator. It gives us a glimpse into how expansive our life is, how awesome it is or can be. 

Gratitude Practice 

Gratitude stretches us to be bigger, to expand our consciousness, to open our hearts and our minds more fully. When we begin the practice of cultivating gratitude, we often notice that it’s generally easier to feel grateful for what we like, for what we want or find pleasant. It’s more difficult to experience gratitude when what comes our way is unwanted. 

I once worked with a woman who had an amazing gratitude practice. It was so pervasive that it was contagious. I found myself feeling grateful for her because her grateful attitude made our encounters so pleasant. Her responses frequently surprised me and helped me to expand my perspective. This was her practice: Whatever I offered her, she responded with a genuine “Thank you!” Her response was always the same. If I offered her my praise and gratitude for something she did well, she would thank me. If I let her know that she had made a mistake or that something was not done well or right, her response was still “Thank you!” This was the key that made this practice so effective. She was truly grateful, her words accompanied by a genuine smile. She never gave one of those “thank you” nods accompanied by a smirk. How did she do that? I never asked her, but my guess is that she was a natural at cultivating spiritual awakening through selfless service. She did what she did as an offering, as her way of worship. She was grateful when it went well, and she was grateful when it did not because that gave her an opportunity to learn. 

Being able to say “thank you” to what comes, both pleasant and unpleasant, is unconditional gratitude. “Thank you” can be said aloud when appropriate, or silently as a prayer, but let’s say it! We can practice offering gratitude for something or someone that has pleased us and for something or someone that has not. The first is easy. The second, not so easy. It becomes easier as we hold that whatever comes into our life and experience always brings an opportunity for us. What will we do with that opportunity? When we meet it with gratitude, our potential to prosper and grow in love is multiplied. 

# # # 

Ellen Grace O’Brian is the author of The Jewel of Abundance and director of the Center for Spiritual Enlightenment in San Jose, CA. Ellen is a yogacharya (an esteemed yoga teacher), a radio host, and an award-winning poet who weaves poetry into her teachings on spiritual matters, pointing to the mystical experience beyond words and thought. Ordained by a direct disciple of Paramahansa Yogananda, she has been teaching Kriya Yoga philosophy and practice nationally and internationally for over three decades. Visit her online at www.ellengraceobrian.com.

Excerpted from the book The Jewel of Abundance: Finding Prosperity through the Ancient Wisdom of Yoga. Copyright ©2018 by Ellen Grace O’Brian. Printed with permission from New World Library — www.newworldlibrary.com.

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Discovering Pain’s Purpose An excerpt from The Pain Companion by Sarah Anne Shockley

In the twenty-first century, one might wish that pain were an easily treatable nonissue. It is not. Millions of doctor and emergency room visits stem from pain, and addiction to pain medications, which is rampant in the United States, and often takes root when someone in pain is attempting to manage unremitting discomfort.

In The Pain Companion: Everyday Wisdom for Living With and Moving Beyond Chronic Pain (New World Library, June 2018), author Sarah Anne Shockley, who has personally lived with chronic pain since 2007, offers fellow pain sufferers a compassionate and supportive guide for living with pain that can be used alongside their ongoing medical or therapeutic healing programs. We hope you’ll enjoy this excerpt from the book.

# # #

In the Western allopathic medical world, physical pain is treated almost entirely from a material standpoint.

In our highly technological and sometimes formulaic culture, we think we will fix our pains if we can just land on the right approach from a confusing and often contradictory variety of programs, pharmaceuticals, cures, and techniques: Pop these pills, take this yoga class, read this book, start eating this, stop eating that, get off the couch, relax more, get out more. We tend to treat pain solely with physically based remedies or to mask it with chemical inhibitors.

Our doctor usually asks us where and how it hurts, and we are encouraged to describe the pain only as it is manifesting in the body. It is a rare Western-trained doctor who asks the patient how they feel about the pain emotionally, what was going on in their life just before the onset of pain, or a myriad of other inquiries into the patient’s emotional, psychological, and spiritual state of being.

One of the reasons that we usually don’t treat physical pain with anything more than physical remedies is that, most obviously, it is experienced in and through the body. Physical pain is so overwhelming for the sufferer that it appears to point only to itself. This seems logical. Yet, while we do live in a physical body, we also consist of a mind and emotions, and many believe we have a spirit or soul as well.

Despite the lack of clear boundaries between these aspects of the self, we have developed different therapeutic approaches, models, and remedies for each, as if each could be addressed uniquely and apart from its impact or reliance on the others.

Consequently, the prevailing medical language refers to the body as a thing, an object, an impersonal lump of flesh. Its physicality is somehow unrelated to the parts of us we can’t see, but which we may, nevertheless, consider the essence of who we really are. The body is inexplicably, but fundamentally, treated as separate from the inner us.

Similarly, we talk about our conditions, our pain, and the organs and systems of our bodies as if each had a life of its own as a disparate entity.

We name our conditions and refer to them by those names, as if we have been invaded by an outside force that remains distinct and separate even though it is completely interwoven with our bodies, our thoughts, and our feelings. Our condition literally lives in us and with us, yet we speak of it as something that could be pointed to and catalogued and extracted.

Although much has been written in recent years about body/mind/spirit integration, particularly in connection with the rising popularity of traditional Asian medicine and acupuncture, the Western medical approach is only beginning to adopt the concept that treatments need to include and address the whole person. Ultimately, therefore, while hugely beneficial in many cases, our scientific approach to life and to health has taught us to compartmentalize our bodies, our lives, our selves, and our pain.
Meanwhile, a growing number of people are not finding relief from pain medications or medical treatments of any kind, and doctors are finding a growing number of painful conditions, such as fibromyalgia and thoracic outlet syndrome, that are difficult to diagnose clearly or treat successfully. Additionally, we have been conditioned by our culture to keep going no matter what. We are not taught to listen to the body, or to our emotions and feeling states as they relate to the body, and certainly not to listen to or honor pain. We override the body’s signals routinely by working too many long days, by overeating or undereating, and by using various substances to feel energized when we’re exhausted or to calm down when we’re hyper.

In a society driven by schedules and fairly rigid work and educational structures, it’s probably a natural consequence that we would develop a medical system that makes getting back on track as soon as possible one of its top priorities. Nothing seems to be wrong with that on the surface, but what if, by doing that, we are sidestepping a significant purpose within the process of healing? What might be the consequences of ignoring the body’s signals, its method of communication? What if, instead of killing, or utterly eradicating, pain with pharmaceuticals, we used medications primarily to reduce pain to a manageable level, so that we can still hear what the body means to tell us in the language of pain? By not honoring the body’s inner timetable and how it relates to our whole self, we might be derailing a deeper meaning held within the pain. If so, then it is possible that this inner purpose unfolds only when we respect it and give it the time and attention it seems to be asking for.

# # #

Sarah Anne Shockley is the author of The Pain Companion. In the Fall of 2007, she contracted Thoracic Outlet Syndrome (TOS), which is a collapse of the area between the clavicles and first ribs, and has lived with debilitating nerve pain ever since. She has been a regular columnist for the Pain News Network and is a regular contributor to The Mighty, a 1.5 million–member online community for those living with chronic illness and pain. Visit her online at www.ThePainCompanion.com.

Excerpted from the book The Pain Companion. Copyright ©2018 by Sarah Anne Shockley. Printed with permission from New World Library — www.newworldlibrary.com.

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Memphis by Ginger Scott ~ Book Excerpt

Memphis by Ginger Scott

A Contemporary New Adult Romance

Release day: February 23

Goodreads

Check out the amazing excerpt of Memphis by Ginger Scott! We are so excited about this release!

Blurb:

My mom always said it was just something about the way he moved.

The same swagger Archie Valentine wore in the ring when he took his opponents down followed him like a halo everywhere he went. But make no mistake about it—he was no angel. He was like a drug. My mother was his addict.

I never understood it...how love could make you blind and convince you to drink the poison. Not until I met Memphis Delaney.

At first, itwas the familiar form. He’s a fighter, built like a god from the past, the kind of man the universe doesn’t make anymore. His eyes hide a story, and every time I’m in his presence I want to keep reading him until I get to the end. And then...there’s the wayhe moves. His boxing is violent but beautiful, and his body is a seductive weapon. When he’s in the ring, he wears the stare of a man committed to the battle until his very last breath.

He could end me; turn me into her. Too much of him will leave me as a shadow, and I’ve lost so much of myself already.

But I have discipline. It came the hard way. Lessons learned, scars left behind, and trust stripped away from life.

I will breathe his air, but I won’t fall for a man like him. The only boxer who’s ever going to break my heart is the one who gave me my name.

EXCERPT:

“Come here,” he says, calling me with a finger.

I wait a second before giving in, letting my arms fall to my sides as I take the few steps from where I am to where he is. His hands wrap around my biceps as soon as I’m near enough and I breathe in fast, just once. His eyes widen a little.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he smirks.

My gaze is held by his when he speaks. He holds it hostage and when I start to look away, his hands slide down to my wrists and he shakes them lightly until I look at him again. His head tilts, and he waits until I get it.

I’m stronger than I look.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling my lip in tight, so afraid I’m not. I’m stubborn for certain. I’m hardened and jaded. I’m not sure if any of that makes me strong.

My muscles bend to Memphis’s will as hethreads his fingers through my right ones and lifts my arm, his other hand holding my elbow into my side. He lets go of my fingers and wraps his palm over my knuckles forming a fist and then moves my entire arm forward slowly, stopping when my body lungeswith it.

“Here. You lose everything...right here,” he says, stopping my fist where it is then placing the tips of his fingers on my hips.

Memphis’s eyes are intent on where his hand rests at my waist, and he pauses to take a breath, his tongue pinched by his teeth, his lips twitching up at the corners, his eyes blinking fast—all in a second.

I think about kissing him again right now.

“Your weight is already spent, and you haven’t even made impact with something yet. Think about it,” he says, eyes flitting up to mine.

I shake my head a little from the brief stare and silence we share.

“Okay,” I say, following his lead as he brings my arm back and steps behind me.

“You hit me hard, but that was without everything you have behind it. Imagine,” he begins, adjusting his hold on me, his right hand sliding down my arm and covering my hand, feet straddling one of mine from behind, his chest against my back, his breath at my neck and a thousand beads of nerves dotting my skin.

“You’re here,” he says, his voice low and right at my ear.

My eyes flutter when his left hand runs down the side of my body to my hip, and my breath hitches when he grips it more forcefully.

“Your opponent is standing right there. Do you see him?”

I nod.

“Yes,” I say, my voice barely audible.

“He’s cocking,” he says, and I giggle at the word while his nose moves closer to my skin, tickling againstmy ear. “You’re such a child.”

I clear my throat and wriggle my hips and roll my shoulders, all under his touch.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” I say, still smiling.

A short breath escapes him in laughter.

“He’s about to swing, okay?” he says, coaxing me to focus.

“Trust me.” His voice falls to a whisper, and my eyes fall closed.

Memphis drives my body, the space between us gone so much that I am lying against him while standing. His hand brings mine up, tucking it close to our bodies. His fingers splay on my thigh, and my leg feels strong. He leans with me, our bodies in sync as we twist to the left, our right shoulders stretching backward, necks rolling until we’re nearly back where we started.

“His balance is off,” he says at my neck. There are no areas of my body that aren’t affected by the vibration of his voice. “You have him. He’s yours. You have balance. His is gone. This is where you win.”

His hand holds my left side still, and his right hand brings me back to swing with a tighter form than I had before. He takes me through the motion once slowly, almost like we’re just part of some intimate ballet performance, then he brings my fist back in and tucks his chin into the side of my neck.

“Again,” he says, this time leading me through the motion faster as his hand slides from its hold on my hip to my diaphragm.

“Breathe out,” he says, and I do slowly at first, but with each swing we repeat, the motion is faster.

My air escapes with my thrust, my body something mechanical now, parts working in unison until I’m able to do it all on my own.

“Keep going,” Memphis says as he steps away. My eyes flit open, and I imagine everything that has ever hurt me. I see their faces—my parents, Enoch, the angry crowds at trials, reporters.

Memphis picks up one of the pads and steps closer as I swing, bending down to hand lift one of my abandoned gloves, eventually holding his palmout for me to pause.

“Put it on, and I want you to hit me now...not like before. Hit me with what you know. Hit me with what you feel, but always there is balance. You can’t give that away. It’s not theirs to have.”

My eyes lock on hisas he slides the glove over my knuckles and I form a raw fist with my other hand. He takes two small steps back and readies himself before nodding.

I clear my lungs and consider his words and everything he just led my body through. I was so strong. I’m stronger than I think I am.

My feet shift to find the perfect fit against the mat, and I bring my hands in, fists raised and ready.

“He’s going to swing now,” Memphis says, and I react just as he taught me.

I dodge. The motion so swift and natural I barely remember doing it before my legs steady themselves, my middle twists and my arm swings forward, fist landing in the same spot as it did before only this time my body doesn’t stumble. Memphis does. Inches, but there is reaction to my action.

“Ha,” I breathe out in disbelief. My eyes lift from the fist-­‐shaped dent in the pad to Memphis, and my lips part in awe.

“Yeah,” he says, glancing around to the front of the pad. “You did that by yourself.”

Giddiness takes over my face, my mouth stretching wide with parted lips. Memphis lets the pad fall again, and the physical proof from my force disappears as the padding evens out. It was there, though. I fought back, and left a mark. More than seeing it, I felt it. I still feel it.

“I want to do that again,” I say, blinking as my vision slides from the pad to Memphis’s proud smile.

“Baby steps, Champ. Let me show you a few drills, and then maybe you can punch me one more time before we’re done,” he says, chuckling.

“I wasn’t hitting you,” I say, handing him the glove.

He holds it in both of his hands before bending down to pick up the other glove, pairing them together. His gaze hits mine.

“I know who you were hitting.” Silence settles in for a long second. I don’t have to respond; Memphis doesn’t expect it.

About the Author:

Ginger Scott is an Amazon-­‐bestselling and Goodreads Choice Award-­‐nominated author of several young and new adult romances, including Waiting on the Sidelines, Going Long, Blindness, How We Deal With Gravity, This Is Falling, You and Everything After, The Girl I Was Before, Wild Reckless, Wicked Restless, In Your Dreams, The Hard Count, Hold My Breath, A Boy Like You and A Girl Like Me.

A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. (She’s also a sucker for a hot quarterback, catcher, pitcher, point guard...the list goes on.) Ginger has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website at http://www.littlemisswrite.com.

When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

Social Media Links:
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/GingerScottAuthor
Twitter: @TheGingerScott
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/thegingerscott/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/GingerScottAuthor
Google: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+GingerScottAuthor/posts
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/GingerScott
Website: http://www.littlemisswrite.com

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The Vengeful Thief (Book #5) by Mallory Crowe ~ Book Tour Excerpt

Peter Slade never thought he'd be coming home. But after his family is put in danger because of his past misdeeds, he has to reconcile with the son he abandoned years ago . But his son has been in good hands. Liv Morgan has never been the nurturing type, but when hard times forced her to move in with her best friend and her orphaned nephew, she found herself being the adoptive mother to a troublemaker with a heart of gold. Liv has no idea what trouble really is. When Slade rolls back in town and is ready to reconcile with his son, Liv finds herself walking the thin line between the estranged father and son. And as she's more and more drawn to Slade, she realizes that if things go wrong, it will be more than just her heart breaking. But Slade came back for a reason. His family is in danger. Liv might think that keeping him away will protect her heart, but he wants her body safe too and to do that, he's going to have to stay close. Liv is about to learn that revenge has never been this sexy...

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Vengeful-Thief-Stolen-Hearts-Book-ebook/dp/B0748LW7KR

iBooks: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-vengeful-thief/id1263946899?mt=11

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-vengeful-thief-mallory-crowe/1126855262?ean=2940154673454

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-vengeful-thief

Mallory Crowe is the award winning author of the Fractured Farrells series, the Bad Boys of the  Underworld series and many other novels. She grew up surrounded by rescue dogs and escaping into romance books whenever possible. After trying to do the "adult" thing by getting an accounting degree and CPA license, she decided to try her hand at writing and never looked back. An avid traveler, reader, and Netflix addict, Mallory currently lives in Michigan, with her neurotic but laid back dog.
www.MalloryCrowe.com
www.MalloryCroweParanormal.com
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMalloryCrowe/
@CroweInk

Excerpt from The Vengeful Thief


He started with the first and most obvious question. “Who are you?”

She tilted her head and stared at him in shock. “Who am I? Who the hell are you? You come into my bedroom unannounced and put your meaty hands on me and you expect me to—”

“I’m Peter Slade. This is my house. I’m looking for my sister.”

If she’d looked shocked before, she was damn near flabbergasted now. She started to shake her head and backed away as she ran one hand up and down her arm. “No… Peter Slade is dead.”

“That’s what a lot of people think. Where is Melissa? I know she still lives here. Who are you to her? Where is Josh?” He knew it was stupid to ask more than one question at a time while beginning an interrogation, but it was still hard for him to think straight after the strange introduction to the woman.

“I, wait—I need you to go back. You’re Melissa’s brother? What the fuck gives you the right to just walk in here, even if you are related?”

“I knocked. No one answered and the door was open so I took my chances. I figured this would be Melissa’s bedroom but instead I found you.” He gestured to the bed and went silent as a blush crept up the woman’s cheeks.

Damn, she was cute before, but now that she was such a sexy shade of pink it was damn near unbearable to look at her. She must’ve been flustered too because she started to ramble a little bit. “I was here because this was Melissa’s parents’ room and she never felt right sleeping here. Besides, the room she took is right next to Josh’s, and when he was younger, she liked being closer to him and now that’s just

kind of how things are and moving furniture is too much of a pain. Wait, I have no reason to actually think you’re Peter Slade and anyone could’ve told you what kind of bike he rides.”

He frowned. “What do you know about my bike?”

She shrugged and her eyes widened as though she realized she’d said something wrong. “Nothing. I mean, I saw you in town earlier. At least I think it was you. Melissa said it was your bike but I didn’t think it was you because you’re, you know, dead. But now that you’re here and you’re obviously not dead, I’m starting to think that it was you I saw and that you still have your motorcycle, so that’s all I know about your bike, okay?”

So Melissa might know he was in town? He shouldn’t be upset about that, but he was. He wanted this re-introduction to his sister to go on his terms. Shit.

If he was screwed with Melissa, he could only hope that his introduction with Josh would go better. “Where is my son?”

The woman scoffed. “You’ve got some balls on you to call him that. That kid has idolized his poor deceased father for years, and now you’re going to roll in here and—”

He wasn’t going to sit here and be scolded by this chick who knew nothing about him or his past. “Where is he?”

She held her arm tighter to her side. “That’s none of your business, no matter who you are to him. Now get out of my house.”

Her— Like hell. “This house belongs to Melissa Slade. Who are you exactly?”

She stiffened and he could tell he hit a nerve somehow, but he wasn’t really sure what. “I’m Olivia Marton. I’m Melissa’s best friend and Josh’s second mother. You know. To help replace his dead father,” she said with a pointed glare, hitting him right where it hurt.

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I'm with You by Allie Frost ~ Book Tour & Excerpt

Teen and Young Adult

Date Published: 9/26/16 (Print) 10/18/16 (eBook)

Publisher: Dragon Tree Books

When fifteen-year-old Ciarán Morrigan eavesdrops on a conversation between his father and two mysterious strangers, his life—and the life of his little sister, Remiel—is changed forever. After their father makes a startling decision, the Morrigan siblings are forced to flee the only life they've ever known and embark on a dangerous adventure across the nation of Empirya. With the enlisted help of a disinherited vagabond, a cynical violinist, a fire-juggler with a fierce temper, an aspiring mechanic, and a cheerful librarian, Ciarán and Remiel must fight to escape the clutches of lethal pursuers. Their journey carries them through smog-filled cities, dark forests, humble towns, and perilous mountains, but will Remiel's dark secret and ghosts from the past prevent the Morrigan children from finding a place they can truly call home?

Winner – Indie Genius Award from Dragon Tree Books

Winner – Literary Titan Book Award (Gold) June 2017

About the Author

Allie Frost was born in 1992 and has spent most of her life in rural Pennsylvania. She attended Western New England University and graduated in 2013 with a degree in English Literature and Film Studies. During her college years, she studied in England and began working on the story that would become her debut novel, I’m With You. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys playing video games, reading, traveling, and going to the movies, and she only likes dark roast coffee or very sugary lattes, but nothing in between. More information is available at thealliefrost.com.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

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Goodreads

Purchase Links

Amazon (ebook and print)

Barnes and Noble (print)

Amazon UK (ebook and print)

Excerpt

The man in the chair fidgeted. I still couldn’t see his face, but his voice was deep and
rich. “You mean to tell me that your twelve-year- old daughter is responsible for the death of
your wife? Forgive me, Ernest, but this sounds a little… far-fetched.”

My father ran a hand through his tangled, graying hair. “I assure you, Maverick,
Dahlia…” He looked at them in turn. “This is no deception. I curse the day that child was born!”
“Ernest,” the woman—Dahlia—said, “I know the papers didn’t go into detail about your
wife’s death, but I find it hard to believe that your daughter—”

“She is at fault!” Father insisted. “My wife was not the first victim. There have been
others. That demon must be stopped before she kills anyone else!”
Others. I knew what Father meant, but none of it had been Remiel’s fault.
The man in the chair chuckled. “I must say, Ernest, from what I’ve seen in pictures, the
girl greatly resembles—”

“I know!” Father slammed a fist on his desk. “I know what she looks like! But she
deserves this, for killing my wife! For killing her own mother!”
Anger stewed in my chest. I wanted to storm into the room and defend my little sister, but
the next snippet of conversation rooted my feet to the carpet.

“And your son?” the man asked. “What has he to do with this?”

Father buried his face in his hands, and his voice was muffled by his fingers.

“I don’t want Ciarán involved.”

His words provided no consolation. If Father wished harm on Remiel, he was
condemning me along with her.

“This is an unusual proposition, Ernest,” Dahlia purred, “but for the right price, I’m sure
we can arrange something. I have the perfect associate in mind to give the job to. She specializes
in quieter methods of her trade.” She smoothed one hand over the man’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t
you agree, darling?”

The man in the chair—Maverick—drummed his fingers on the armrest. After an
agonizing pause, he drew himself up to his full, towering height, and I saw a man whose image I
would never forget.

“You have a deal, Ernest.”

He reached a hand toward Father, who grasped it in a desperate handshake.

“We will kill your daughter for you.”

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Soulless (Soul Broker #1) by Ismael Manzan ~ Book Review

Book Description: 

The devil’s not the only one buying souls; both sides need bodies to fight their war, and both have something to offer in return. Nearly anything is possible, if you are the type of soul they’re looking for. Charlotte Furio learns this the hard way, when a spirited and mysterious woman named Trisha follows her home one night and gives her ailing father a simple choice: a healthy body for his immortal soul.

His decision introduces Charlotte to the world of soul brokering, and Charlotte is not only drawn to it, but finds she has a knack for it. Having lived the last decade of her life with only one purpose—to care for her increasingly disabled father—Charlotte sees this as her chance to give direction and meaning to her own life, and the lives of other people. To help them as Trisha had helped her father.

This mission is quickly derailed when Charlotte is framed for the murder of one of the brokers' leaders. Where she once had only one purpose, now Charlotte has two: get her father's soul back and find a way to prove her innocence before it's too late.

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Excerpt:

I walked around the car so I could jump into the passenger's seat, waited for the crowd to thin and calmly—barely holding onto my senses—asked for the knapsack. It weighed nothing, but when I opened it, I found a parchment resting peacefully and eagerly inside of it. The full moon was out, and the sky was cloudless and unobtrusive, so when the pale, silvery light touched the papyrus, it was not reflected but enhanced. Trisha started the engine, and put the convertible’s top up to block the moonlight, then adjusted her mirror. Her face glowed nearly as bright as the papyrus.

The windows were tinted so I felt safe removing the parchment completely from the bag. The second my hand touched it, I felt a rush of something inexplicable, like a jolt of pleasurable lightning traipsing through my nerves and extending outward to the world at large. At first, I thought Trisha had pulled out a taser gun and had shocked me, but nothing hurt. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to enjoy the strangeness of the sensation. Shivers passed through me randomly, tingles that lit my skin. Without knowing how, I knew those shivers were my body's reaction to people passing alongside the car. It was as if I was connected to the air through which they moved. I heard the wind pushing through the desiccated leaves still clinging to their branches, and it sounded like water rushing around a brook. The smells of the city, even through the confinement of the car, assailed my nostrils as if someone had bottled it up and threw it—concentrated—into my lap.

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PURCHASE LINKS:

Fantasy Works Publishing | Amazon | Smashwords

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About the Author:

Ismael Manzano was born and raised in New York City, and has lived his entire life in the Bronx, first with his parents, and then with his lovely and talented wife, Justine, and now with their kinetic maelstrom of a child, Logan.

Ismael is an avid reader of fantasy books, and knew at an early age that he wanted to be a writer. He worked his entire life to hone his craft to achieve the goal of removing the prefix, ‘aspiring,’ from his title, and referring to himself as a writer.

He has written many reviews and social commentaries for the web magazine, G-pop.net. Recently, Ismael has found success publishing his short stories, Playing in Shadows, at This Dark Matter (www.thisdarkmatter.com) and Cold, published in July 2015, at Grey Matter. In 2015, Fantasy Works Publishing signed his Urban Fantasy series, Soul Broker.

Ismael loves watching historical documentaries and listening to audio lectures about Medieval England, Ancient Rome, and Egypt. He considers himself an amateur historian, and has never met a BBC historical drama he didn’t like. One of his favorite things to do is to watch shows like the Tudors and movies like Elizabeth, and try to pick out the discrepancies between fact and fiction. He also hopes to one day solve a Rubix Cube puzzle, but that dream, sadly, seems to be the greatest fantasy of them all.

Ismael’s book, Soulless, is published by Fantasy Works Publishing.

Connect: Website | Twitter | Facebook |

Review: 

Charlotte has been looking after her father, who had a series of strokes and has left him an "invalid" (authors words not mine). He doesn't speak and sits in a wheelchair needing total care from his daughter. Charlotte only has her father left. This book starts out slow in my opinion. Charlotte meets Trisha in a bar, this lady is weird by Charlotte passes it off as the lady is drunk. Next thing we know Trisha has followed Charlotte home and wants her father's soul. This is where the story really gets started. Charlotte has shut herself off from the outside world and spends most of her time watching tv with her father.

I found the last half of the story really picks up and I enjoyed it a lot more when the action really started and we learned more about these "soul broker's". Charlotte wants in on this job to bring back her family and then finds herself tangled up in a web that "Trisha" has spun with Charlotte being the main character in it all. She walks right into the trap and needs to get out of it alive. Charlotte is naive but I think this is mainly due to staying home and looking after her father and brother. She didn't have the chance to learn and experience. She is a fighter and has an attitude that could be good or bad depending on who she decides to use it with.

I give this novel a 3.5 stars out of 5. I do look forward to the rest of the series as I think it'll get even more interesting in book two.


~*Disclaimer: This post was written by Genuine Jenn. I received the above book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are honest and my own.*~

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Something in the Water by Ben Starling ~ Book Review/Interview/Excerpt Tour

Book Description: 

The sealed box Teal finds in the street contains more than just a mystery...

What if to be with the man of your dreams…you had to give up your life? On the verge of losing her job, side-lined journalist Teal is forced to travel to the South Pacific to profile a powerful businessman. But with her almost-but-not-quite fiancé Bear discouraging her every step of the way, she may not be able to save her career or her relationship.

When corporate criminals invade paradise, Teal teams up with a former boxer turned marine-biologist to investigate. As she discovers the true intentions behind their new canning operations, she must either accept the plum promotion that will save her career or—with Perry—defend the island with more than her life.

Something in the Water, An Ocean Romance is available on Amazon.

Review:

This is book two in the Ocean romance series. I actually enjoyed this book a lot more than the first, Something in the Air. The first was a good story but I felt it was rushed.  This book goes into more of a story, touching a few different topics within the story. I loved learning more about Firefly Bob (I knew it! can't tell you what I knew though), the whales (I've always loved whales), and the Island.

The author did a great job with his characters, you either liked them or you don't. Dan Dragan is one of those characters that I didn't like at all in book two. Perry, what can I say about this man, he is an amazing catch. Teal is likeable right from the beginning, she has had a rough like and finally was starting to have things fall into place. Edward, ouch, I couldn't stand him, nothing nice to say about this man. Right from the beginning he got on my nerves with his better than thou attitude and his haw, haw's.  I loved the couple at the resort, Frank and Nancy. Grandma Lizzie is also another amazing character. If you care a lot of about the ocean and the whales this is a great story about love, determination, doing right for the planet. I will admit to shedding a few tears near the end. There are a few sad times. 

You could read this book as a stand alone but if you are like me, you will want to start the series at the beginning. There isn't a huge tie in with the first book but you will see how over the years Daniel Dragan has changed his attitude.

I would give this book a 4 out of 5 stars. I can't wait to read the next book in the series.

Interview with Ben Starling:

First of all, tell us a little about yourself. Do you have a pet or pets?

I had a beautiful and brilliant Great Dane named Edington once. She learned every game in a flash, retrieved things I didn’t know I wanted and danced with me with her paws on my shoulders. I lost her many years ago, but I’ll never forget her. I’m sure she’s my guardian angel watching over me. I’ve had a few close calls and I credit my continued existence entirely to Edington.

What have you been working on recently? Can you tell us about your new release?

Something in the Water is fundamentally a love story—with a bit of adventure in the tropics thrown in too. Here’s the blurb: The sealed box Teal finds in the street contains more than just a mystery… What if to be with the man of your dreams…you had to give up your life? On the verge of losing her job, side-lined journalist Teal is forced to travel to the South Pacific to profile a powerful businessman. But with her almost-but-not-quite fiancé Bear discouraging her every step of the way, she may not be able to save her career or her relationship. When corporate criminals invade paradise, Teal teams up with a former boxer turned marine-biologist to investigate. As she discovers the true intentions behind their new canning operations, she must either accept the plum promotion that will save her career or—with Perry—defend the island with more than her life.

Do you ever take quirks or nuances from close friends or family when developing your characters?

Not consciously. But we are really the sum of everything we see around us. I’m pretty sure that all my characters are complex combinations of every person I’ve ever met in life. And once you have that many disparate ingredients in the recipe, a little magic happens, and the character takes on a life of her or his own.

How did you get started writing?

I’m a freelance editor, working on business plans, articles published in specialist magazines and some fiction. After so many years of working on other people’s stories, it felt like the right time to create an original one of my own. My upcoming novel, Something in the Water, was inspired by the loss of my partner at forty-five years of age to ovarian cancer in 2012, just thirteen weeks after her diagnosis. In the aftermath, an old friend challenged me to turn that grief into something positive.

Remembering a conversation with a charismatic Polynesian fisherman (I visited there once) about his people’s vision of death and the afterlife, I began to write. Through the written word, I hoped to explore and capture several extraordinary events that happened around the time of my girlfriend’s death. The novel and the series kind of took off from there…

Do you believe in Destiny?

We are given a hand of cards at birth and the free will to choose how to play them. However, sometimes the Universe delivers the perfect someone at just the right time. And that’s the luckiest moment in a life.

Do you have any other hobbies?

I draw to unwind. Magical realism in black and white is my favorite. Recently, I’ve been exploring marine themes too. I’m always promising myself to branch out and explore color. But I keep coming back to pen and ink. I’ve posted some on my site.

What can we look forward to next from you?

Something in the Water will be supported by a series of short stories that reveal the backstories of the major characters in this world.

The first in the series, Something in the Air, is available now free at my website and on Kobo (and also Amazon) and the second short story in the series, Something on the Fly, will be released in the Spring!

Something in the Water - available on Amazon  
Something in the Air – Available for FREE at www.ben-starling.com and at Kobo & Amazon
Something on the Fly – coming soon!

* * * *
Excerpt from Something in the Water – Chapter 1 begins…

New York, September

He didn’t look like the hotel guests, the business people, or the tourists. He didn’t move like them either.

He brushed past me as I climbed off my Vespa, stilettos in hand, outside the entrance of the Waldorf Astoria. Had he smiled at the radiance of my scarlet ball gown? Or was he amused by my battered Converse sneakers?

As a valet approached to take my scooter and helmet, I spotted my boss, Malcolm, waving hello from the lobby. He was approaching the glass doors that separated us when I noticed a small wooden box on the ground. Two steps later, I had picked it up. Who could have dropped it?

No one was close by, so I turned. The only man who’d passed me was already a half block away, gliding beside the cars that waited for the lights to change at the end of the block. Was it his?

What I knew for sure was that now wasn’t the time to be tracking down the little box’s owner. I should hand it in to reception and concentrate on the evening ahead. For a few seconds, I relaxed as I studied the hotel’s confident, soaring opulence—a world unknown to me before my arrival from Nantucket four years ago. The smooth texture of the box, however, drew my thoughts back to it. Was there something valuable inside? What if it did belong to that man, and he never returned to collect it? I turned the box over—and caught my breath.

“How on earth…?”

Malcolm emerged in front of me. “Hello, darling, you look absolutely—are you okay?”

I thrust my sparkly evening shoes into his hands, and hitched up my shawl. I was about to give chase when a convertible Ferrari lurched to a stop beside me.

“Going my way, babe?” its driver shouted, over the thrum of the engine.

But my dress was redder, and I got the better start.

You can find the rest of Something in the Water, Chapter 1 at http://ben-starling.com/chapter-one/

* * * *
About the Author: 

Ben Starling is passionate about marine conservation and boxing, both central themes in his upcoming novel. His interest in marine life has taken him across three continents over the past three decades. He is Oxford’s only ever Quintuple Blue (varsity champion five years running), was Captain of the university boxing team, and coached and boxed competitively until about five years ago. He is 6’3”and 185 lbs. Ben graduated from Oxford University with a Master of Arts and an M Phil. He was born in the USA but has lived in the UK since childhood.

Connect with Ben at www.ben-starling.com 

 
~*Disclaimer: This post was written by Genuine Jenn. All opinions are honest and my own.*~

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