BLOG TOUR: WHAT COMES NEXT BY CAITLIN FORBES + BOOK EXCERPT

On December 20, 2025December 19, 2025 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Book Summary

An empowering and heartfelt novel about the complexities of family, the power of sisterhood, and the bravery it takes to choose happiness when all seems lost.

“My life is perfectly fine.”

Alex has pretended this for years―despite an emotionally absent father, a best friend drifting away, and a floundering dog-training business. At least Alex has her sister, Meredith, a driven polar opposite. But both their lives are upended when their estranged mother dies of a genetic condition that the sisters have a fifty-fifty chance of inheriting. For Alex, a world without her mother is uncomfortable. But a world without Meredith is unthinkable.

Alex suggests a pact to which Meredith tentatively agrees: In three months they’ll get tested. Until then they go after everything they’ve ever wanted. Alex is finally stepping out of her comfort zone and opening herself up to new relationships. Or maybe reconnecting with an old one. Nathan, a boy who once broke her heart, needs a trainer for his mixed-breed rescue. Alex can’t resist.

As sparks rekindle, and time passes much too quickly, Alex discovers more about herself, her sister, and her mother than she ever imagined. And that everything in life―especially happiness―comes with a risk worth taking.

Publisher: Lake Union Publishing

ISBN-10: 1662528116

ISBN-13: 978-1662528118

ASIN: B0DZY6Q16W

Print length: 317 pages

Purchase a copy of What Comes Next on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Bookshop.org. You can also add it to your GoodReads list.

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About the Author

Photography by Molly Haley, mollyhaley.com

Caitlin Forbes is a Maine-based author who writes stories that explore the messiness of relationships—from sisterhood to romance to the tricky relationship we have with ourselves. When not writing, you can find her chasing after her toddler (or her dog) and exploring small-town New England life.

You can follow the author at:

https://www.caitlinforbesauthor.com/

https://www.instagram.com/caitlin_forbes_author/

Blog Tour Calendar

December 8 @ The Muffin

Join us at the Muffin as we celebrate the launch of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes. We interview the author and give you a chance to win a copy of the book.

https://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

December 9 @ Kaecey McCormick’s blog

Join Kaecey’s blog for a guest post from Caitlin Forbes about why she writes and what inspires her.

https://www.kaeceymccormick.com/blog

December 11 @ Knotty Needle

Judy shares her thoughts about What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://knottyneedle.blogspot.com/

December 12 @ CC King’s blog

Stop by Caitrin’s blog for a guest post by Caitlin Forbes on the struggle and process of publishing a debut novel.

https://www.caitrincking.com/blog

December 15 @ Sarandipity’s

Visit Sara’s blog for an excerpt from What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://sarandipitys.com/blog/

December 18 @ Knotty Needle

Stop by Judy’s blog again for her response to our tour-themed prompt about her own dog rescue story.

https://knottyneedle.blogspot.com/

December 19 @ Nicole Writes About Stuff

Stop by Nicole’s Substack for a contribution from Caitlin Forbes.

https://nicolepyles.substack.com

December 20 @ A Wonderful World of Books

Visit Joy’s blog for an excerpt from What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://awonderfulworldofwordsa.blogspot.com/

December 20 @ Author Anthony Avina’s blog

Visit Anthony’s blog for an excerpt from What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://authoranthonyavina.com/category/blog-tours/

December 21 @ Chapter Break

Visit Julie’s blog for a guest post by Caitlin Forbes about the importance of fiction, particularly book club fiction, in this crazy time.

https://chapterbreak.net/

December 23 @ What Is That Book About?

Visit Michelle’s blog for an excerpt from What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://www.whatisthatbookabout.com/

December 26 @ Words by Webb

Visit Jodi’s blog for her review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://www.jodiwebbwriter.com/blog

December 28 @ StoreyBook Reviews

Stop by Leslie’s blog for a guest post by Caitlin Forbes on why she included dogs in her book What Comes Next.

https://storeybookreviews.com/

January 2 @ Nicole Writes About Stuff

Stop by Nicole’s Substack for a feature of What Comes Next in her weekly newsletter.

https://nicolepyles.substack.com

January 3 @ Seaside Book Nook

Visit Jilleen’s blog for her review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

http://www.seasidebooknook.com/

January 4 @ Author Anthony Avina’s blog

Stop by Anthony’s blog for his review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://authoranthonyavina.com/category/blog-tours/

January 8 @ Writer Advice

Visit B. Lynn Goodwin’s blog for her review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes.

https://writeradvice.com/

January 9 @ Writer Advice

Stop by B. Lynn Goodwin’s blog for a guest post by author Caitlin Forbes about the question of inheritance – of what we inherit versus what we get to choose.

https://writeradvice.com/

January 10 @ Just Katherine

Stop by Katherine’s blog for her review of What Comes Next by Caitlin Forbes. You’ll also have a chance to read her response to our tour-themed prompt about whether if she had an incurable condition and if she would want to find out.

https://justkatherineblog.wordpress.com/

Enjoy this Excertp from What Comes Next

WHAT COMES NEXT — Chapter 1

By Caitlin Forbes

When the doorbell rings, I’m standing in front of my bathroom sink, the picture of indecision: boxer briefs paired with a black silk tank top, made-up face, and completely untamed hair.

I’m supposed to meet my roommate, Holly, for drinks. But it was a last-minute invite—with people I don’t know, planned days or even weeks earlier—and now I feel uncomfortable. As if I’ve become the kind of obligation that I never wanted to be. We’ve been best friends for nearly a decade, but these days, things are different, and I don’t know that I want to feel the strain of it tonight. I’m more tempted by Netflix and cold pizza. My favorite pair of slippers.

I check the weather app on my phone and am almost relieved that it calls for rain.

I’m conceding defeat, turning off the curler, when the bell rings and I physically jump. Because who rings the doorbell in Somerville, Massachusetts, other than someone who wants to kill me? Or someone who wants to sell something, which is maybe not all that much better. But then I consider my upstairs neighbor, who has lost her keys more than once, and is so young, still new to the Boston area, and I feel guilty, so I pad down the stairs of our apartment and crack open the building door. And I swear, I get a whiff of cinnamon, a smell so familiar it knocks me back before I can remember why.

And he’s standing there. On my doorstep. Tall. Even taller than I remember.

Nathan Browning.

We stare at each other from either side of the doorframe. And I will him to disappear. Or turn into someone else. Or at the very least, to come back when I’m wearing pants.

Nathan. Those first two years of college. Nights spent squeezed onto a twin bed in his dorm room, pretending we weren’t uncomfortable just so we could fall asleep together. The summer I’d spent with his family at Lake Winnipesaukee. Campfires and smoky hair. His lips, pillow soft. Water. An excess of water—one oversize tube, our limbs tangled together. Salty tears.

“Alex?”

It’s my name that gets my attention. My name in his mouth, as if it belongs there. As if we still mean something to each other.

I almost shut the door right then.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I’m relieved my voice sounds calm. Disengaged, even. Because it doesn’t matter that he is here. Because it doesn’t matter what we once were.

“I need your help,” he says.

I stare at him blankly, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking over his shoulder. He’s looking at the car parked behind him and, more accurately, at what is sitting in the front seat.

He turns back to me with those gray-blue eyes. The ones that were always focused, always so certain, but now hold the smallest hesitation. An expression that seems wrong in this face I still somehow know.

“I saw your video,” he says. “And I—we need your help.”

The video. The one that changed my life right up until it didn’t.

I was a part-time dog trainer then, still trying to make that dream real. Holly and I made a video, and she stuck it up on YouTube, and then it went viral. It was a fluky kind of thing, like those things always are: the right content at the right time in front of the right people. The algorithm was alerted, and the amplification went from there. I was twenty-four and poor and bored—working a second job and involved in a fling to pass the time—and then suddenly, I was also something else. A dog whisperer, people typed. Cesar Millan but softer, with a woman’s touch. Silly. Casually sexist.

But something just the same.

After the video, it was Holly’s idea to start the training business. DogKind, we called it. I dropped my second job as copywriter to train full-time, and she did everything else—the administration and the management. The promotions. We’d both majored in marketing in college, but Holly was better at it than me. Maybe because she believed in it: the concept of brands that build trust, and colors and fonts that tell a story. It took her only two weeks to launch DogKind’s website and get us live on all the social platforms. We were still twenty-four and poor but suddenly not so bored. I remember the day the site launched—us sitting on the floor in our cramped living room, a five-dollar bottle of red between us. Stained teeth. It was summer in an attic apartment in the city, and we didn’t have air-conditioning. Holly had chopped her hair off, and we were trying to convince ourselves it was edgy.

We were young in that way you actually notice. When you’re afraid of what will happen when you blink.

Four years ago. The length of high school, or of college, but without the predetermined milestones. The signposts that tell you how and why everything is about to change.

Holly quit the business less than two years later, and I followed her lead not long after. Partly because I wasn’t making enough money to cover rent, and partly because of what happened with Cliff, one of the dogs I tried to save. But mainly because I hated being called a “dog whisperer.” I hated that people thought I could perform miracles, that they insisted on believing I was more than I was.

I work at Kensington Media now. It covers the rent, and it could one day become a real career. And I don’t have regrets. Except, there are these moments—when I see a short haircut on a blonde, when Instagram flashes up a memory of a pup—and it’s like my whole body freezes over. A little voice in my head, whispering, You can go back if you just stay still.

“How did you find me? I took down my website ages ago.”

“An old testimonial from a woman named Lois, I think?” Nathan says. “Her address is publicly listed. So I called her. She pointed me in your direction.”

Lois. She was my neighbor as a kid. She moved closer to the city after my mom left, but she always kept a close eye on me and Mere. A bespectacled not-quite grandmother—that careful mix of kind and overbearing. She’s a lifelong dog rescuer and was DogKind’s first client.

Lois never wanted me to quit.

I sneak a peek at him while he’s checking the car, again. He’s still handsome. Those eyes, and dark-brown hair with the slightest hint of red—the red was the part that I liked most, that almost made us match. Behind him, I can see a flash of auburn fur. Two half-bent glossy ears pointed forward. A white-tipped tail.

I swallow. “I don’t train anymore,” I say.

He lifts a shoulder. The gesture looks comfortable on him. Like he’s used to half explaining himself, half caring if anyone understands. And I remember that part, too: the easy confidence. The kind I imagine he still takes for granted.

“She thought you might still help.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Lois is one of those people who likes to imagine me as bigger and braver than I am.

“Listen, I don’t know what you saw in that video, but it’s not—she’s not me.”

“She sure looked like you.”

And right then, our eyes meet. And we get stuck there. Three breaths. Blue-gray eyes, like he still knows me. Like we still know each other. And something electric—something more than anger—passes between us. Right here, on my dirty Somerville stoop, wearing the bottom half of my pajamas, everything else recedes. For three breaths, it’s just us.

A car drives by with the windows open, the radio blaring through the street. I take a step back.

“I’ll give you a referral,” I say. “I know a lot better trainers than me out there.”

“Alex.” I hate the way he says my name. “I know that you and I . . . that our history makes this tough . . .” His voice trails off as my eyes snap to him. He takes in my expression, then lifts his chin. That confidence. Whatever hesitation I saw earlier is long gone.

“I’m sorry,” he says firmly. “You know that I am sorry.”

I shake my head. I don’t want an apology. I’m embarrassed—mortified, really—that I still care. That he knows that I still care. That he’s still talking, and I’m falling backward into sand and blue water and the particular ache of a wound that is old but was also first.

I pull my shoulders back. I make my voice flat. “This isn’t about us. I’m not a trainer anymore. I haven’t worked with a dog in almost two years.”

“Her name is Remy,” he says. “She only has three months.”

I pause, already half turned away, my hand pressed against the battered wooden doorframe. The day we moved in, I hit my shoulder against it and ended up with a splinter. I’d been laughing about something with Holly, and then sharp wood pressed deep under my skin.

“Remy bit someone,” he says. I can feel his eyes studying my half-turned face. “She’s a rescue, and she has a history of bites. I had to go to court, and they mandated that she see a vet behaviorist and trainer. I did the first part, and they have her on anxiety meds, which will maybe help. But I need to do the training. And if we can’t document improvement . . .”

His voice trails off, but I don’t need him to finish. I already know how this goes. I’ve seen it before.

Ninety days. He has ninety days to prove that she can be trusted. Or euthanasia. That’s what the court told him.

Of course, they have it all wrong. It’s not about us trusting her. It’s whether she’ll choose to trust us again after whatever made her stop.

I glance back over his shoulder. Those ears, cocked forward above the dashboard, they break my heart. She’s waiting for him. The Nathan I remember was too busy for dogs. Too focused on everything he planned to achieve. But here he is, with a rescue who has decided he’s worth waiting for.

I bite my lower lip. “Your vet must have given you referrals,” I say.

“They were booked out for a month. And the other ones I called wouldn’t take her. They say she’s hopeless.” His jaw clenches. “But, Alex . . . I’ve seen what you can do.”

“You saw an edited video. If they’re telling you she’s a lost cause—”

“We used to say that lost causes were an excuse.”

Our first real conversation. The one that once it started, it felt like it would never stop.

My breath stutters on the memory.

It seems possible, in this moment, that he remembers just as much as I do.

“I know I shouldn’t be here, okay,” he says. “I know that. But Remy is a wonderful dog. And no one else will help her. Whatever you think of me, and honestly, whatever you think of you . . . none of that matters. You need to try. You can do this.”

It’s all classic Nathan: unapologetic and determined. Nathan’s not used to people saying no, especially when it comes to “doing the right thing.” He can be an ass—too cocky, with expectations that are too high—but he’s a genuinely good guy. And he’s never had much patience for people who don’t step up.

It was one of the first things I loved about him.

It was also one of the things that I hated.

“Nathan—”

“Please,” he cuts in. His voice hitches, and I see it now: the dark circles under his eyes, the tightness of his expression. I used to know him once. There was a time when he let me further in than anyone, and I can tell that he is scared. He’s scared for her.

Remorse crowds my stomach because, back then, I could have helped him. But I am not the girl he remembers, and I’m not whoever he thinks he saw online. “I can’t,” I say. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

He looks like he’s about to argue. I expect him to argue. But then, it’s as if he deflates in front of me. His whole chest sinks inward. It’s not a look I’ve ever seen on him. Or one that I like.

“Yeah, no, I get it,” he says.

“I’m not what she needs,” I mumble.

“Sure, okay. I’m sorry for showing up like this.” It’s awkward now. His voice is clipped, and he’s running his hands through his hair like he does in those rare moments when he’s uncomfortable. I don’t have to check to know the back pieces will stick up.

“Listen, leave your number,” I say. “I know a lot of trainers. I’ll find her someone, okay?”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, sure. Thank you.” I can tell he wants to leave. I can tell I am a disappointment. And maybe it’s my imagination, but I get the feeling that it hurts him. Being here. Seeing me.

I think it hurts him, too.

I left my phone upstairs, so he pulls a pen from his suit pocket and a piece of paper from his bag and jots down his number. The promised rain starts as he turns to go, water brushing against my cheeks, and I duck inside the entryway, the paper clenched tightly in my fist. As I watch him jog back to his car, I wonder about the suit. I wonder what he does for work, what kind of man he turned into. I find myself hoping that he got the life he’d planned.

He drives away, and I unstick my feet. I drift back upstairs, past the bright-yellow welcome doormat Holly bought, and collapse on our coach. My mind is strangely quiet, and I let my eyes wander our small place. Everything about it is bright and fun and filled with Holly’s energy: colorful, mismatched place mats; a half a dozen of those cheesy quote signs scattered across the walls; and an array of weird glass owl figurines that Holly collects. They catch the light, making everything twinkle.

I pull out my phone, scrolling past a missed call from my sister to a text message from Lois.

A lovely sounding boy called about his dog. He seemed a bit desperate but was so polite. Be nice!!

I shake my head. Lois is not the first person to be easily charmed by Nathan.

I am going to connect him to a good trainer. No more referrals, please!

I see the response bubbles pop up from her immediately. And then disappear. She starts again, then deletes whatever she wrote. The gentle thud of rain starts to pound outside the window.

My phone buzzes.

I just want you to be happy, honey.

I stare at the screen lit up against my hand. I ignore the sudden tightness of my jaw. I read the words again.

I just want you to be happy.

It’s such a seemingly innocuous statement. A level of genericness that begs an equally generic response. And I want to type back something funny, something simple, but I’m blinking back water that has nothing to do with the rain.

I should be happy. My life is perfectly fine. And wanting more than fine feels like an obnoxious privilege. Too embarrassing to say out loud. Especially when there’s stuff that I could do to improve my life. Books I could read. Skills I could learn. I know there’s stuff I’m supposed to be doing. Just like I know there’s a person I’m supposed to be becoming.

Except, when I think about that person, she’s just as alien as she was when I graduated from college. And I’m not sure how to change that. I’m not sure how to explain that between work and all the daily stuff in my life that is really not that hard, that I don’t know how to become. How the being takes up all the energy that should go toward the becoming.

I didn’t think I would end up this way. I used to want to be different. I used to want to be more like the girl Nathan remembers. I look down at my hands—at the piece of paper still threaded between my fingers, with a number and a name—and a splash of longing bubbles up delicately in my chest. I turn on Netflix, and I find an old sitcom filled with people in their thirties. And as the rain picks up speed outside, I take a careful breath around the bubble. I tell myself I still have time.

Blog Tour: Head over Feels by Bix Barrow + Excerpt

On July 10, 2023July 10, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

Bix Barrow has a new MM contemporary romance out (gay, pan): Head Over Feels. And there’s a giveaway.

A luscious pet massage therapist, a gorgeous but grumpy ex-FBI agent, and glitter bombs gone deadly…

Malcolm:

I shouldn’t be jealous of my cat. I am, though. Her pet massage therapist (who knew that was even a thing?) is exactly my type. Smart, funny, and adorable with just the right amount of meat on his bones.

But a guy like that deserves more than a grouchy forty-something ex-FBI agent with a broken body and a screwed-up brain. I’m shocked when he offers a no-strings night together, though I don’t think twice before I’m all in.

I should’ve known better, because one night will never be enough. But before I can ask Felix for more, our awkward morning after turns explosive. And not in a good way

Now I just have to keep Felix alive long enough to catch the bomber. And to capture Felix’s heart.

Felix:

What would happen if everyone you’d ever dated got together and plotted against you?

For me, it’s glitter bombs. Lots and lots of glitter bombs.

Okay, maybe I deserved the first one or two. Or three. But I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’m a better person now. I definitely don’t deserve the latest bomb—this one isn’t made of glitter. Now I’m in hiding with Malcolm, the smokin’ hot older client I just had a sizzling one-night stand with.

Malcolm might be grumpy and prickly, but to me he’s also warm, caring, and romantic. My exes can’t hold a candle to him. But all that glitters is not gold. The bomber still wants me dead, and I’m pretty sure the police arrested the wrong guy.

If Malcolm and I want our HEA, we have to identify the real culprit. I just hope it all doesn’t blow up in our faces.

Head Over Feels is a low-angst MM contemporary romance. Come for the grumpy/sunshine, forced proximity (but there are two beds, sorry), hurt/comfort, and found family. Stay for the bombs (glitter and real), the 1985 Buick Riviera convertible, dreams coming true, atoning for past mistakes, game nights, a dead body, and an online date gone very, very, wrong. HEA guaranteed!

Warnings: PTSD symptoms, bomb explosion, off-page murder, recount of dog euthanasia

Amazon | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads

Giveaway

Bix is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47289/?

Excerpt

(from Felix’s POV)

I was still furious at Jaime’s holier-than-thou attitude about pet massage therapy. Where did he get off thinking he could judge me? At least I’d be helping animals and their owners. He built skyscrapers for rich jerks.

If I winced a little thinking my ex-dates would have a very similar opinion about me if they found out I’d held them up for the world to laugh at, well, that was no one’s business but my own.

Crap.

Anger and guilt were fighting in my gut as I clomped up the stairs and down the hall, turning the corner to reach my apartment. A small box sat in front of my door. Usually the apartment complex sent an email when I had a package delivered, but maybe one of my neighbors had picked it up by mistake.

I checked, and it was addressed to me. Someone is thinking about you was plastered across the outside of the box on colorful tape.

Could it be from my grandma? Sometimes she sent cookies. I’d been planning to spend the rest of the night on the couch with a bottle of cheap vodka, but cookies would be a welcome addition to help drown my feelings. The night was looking up at last.

After dumping my wallet and keys on the kitchen counter, I rooted around in my junk drawer for a pair of shears to open the package with. Inside the outer box was another box tied with curly multicolored ribbon. Thinking of you, said the sticker on the lid.

Smiling, I lifted out the smaller box and tugged on the ribbon.

The box burst open. I flinched back and yelled as a shower of glitter exploded all over the kitchen. And me.

“Ugh!” I spat into the sink to get the glitter out of my mouth. I tried to wipe my face on my sleeve, but my shirt was covered in it too. Luckily I hadn’t gotten any in my eyes, but it was crusted on my eyelids and in my beard.

I swiped at my head to get it out of my hair. The glitter rained down on the counter. Silver glitter. Gold glitter. Red, blue, green glitter.

It covered the counter and the kitchen floor. I didn’t have to look to know it had spread over the opposite side of the counter onto the living room carpet.

Freaking fantastic.

I brushed my hands together to get the worst of it off, then I studied the remains of the box. A spring had powered the little explosion. I found a notecard underneath the glitter and pulled it out. One side of the card showed a drawing of a tree and proclaimed, Our glitter is non-toxic and biodegradable! On the other side someone had handwritten, This is the least you deserve.

It wasn’t signed.

I flashed to my ex-dates. Surely not. I mean, what were the odds they would’ve seen Felicia in the City, much less recognized themselves.

Shaking my head, I set about washing the glitter off my hands, cleaning as much as I could from the counter and the floor, then running my ancient vacuum cleaner over the living room carpet.

I couldn’t think of anyone I’d aggravated recently. Except Jaime, of course. Not to mention his boyfriend. But the timing wasn’t right. I snorted to myself. If anyone deserved a glitter bomb, it was Jaime.

The kitchen was as clean as it was going to get, at least tonight. I went into the bathroom and stood in the tub to take my clothes off. Biodegradable meant it could go down the drain, right? Showering was a relief. The glitter had been starting to itch.

After putting on a t-shirt and pajama pants, I flopped down on the couch. I was exhausted but too wired to sleep yet. Groaning, I heaved myself up again and trudged to the kitchen. After pouring myself a generous vodka with a hint of tonic, I shuffled back to the couch and sank into the cushions.

With the kitchen light on, the carpet sparkled from embedded glitter. The vacuum hadn’t done much to get it out.

I slugged back about a third of my vodka tonic, then I picked up my phone to text Cal.

Me: My date was cheating on his boyfriend. And when I got home someone had sent me a glitter bomb.

Little dots appeared almost immediately, so I sipped my drink somewhat more sedately while I waited.

Cal: WTF, man? I hope u gave ur friend Cole shit about it. Do u know who sent the glitter bomb?

Me: I did and no, no idea. The note said “This is the least you deserve”

Cal: I hate to bring this up again, but how about those guys u dated who ended up on Felicia in the City?

Me: Marcie changed their names, and the show’s set in a different town

Cal: Well, I didn’t have anything to do last night, so I binged the first season. How many guys have model train tracks throughout their entire house and can’t sleep without it running? And how many guys show photos of their ex to their date and cry about him?

Well, fuck. Trent, the train guy, would definitely recognize himself. Or his friends would. And if you saw the episode with the guy crying over photos of his ex—who was very much alive, mind you—you might remember the appetizer in question was calamari. Something Marcie had kept consistent with my real date, since she liked how I’d described it as crying in the calamari. I hadn’t considered it might be a clue for Xavier to recognize himself on the show.

And none of the guys would have a hard time figuring out it was me who told their stories.

Me: Crap, you might be right

Cal: Well whichever of those guys did it, hopefully sending the glitter bomb got it out of their system

Me: I hope so

I rubbed my chest, frowning. Maybe letting Marcie pay me to use the stories from my dates hadn’t been the nicest thing I could’ve done.

Crap.

Author Bio

When Bix Barrow got an idea for her first book, it ended up turning into her second — and thus the first two stories in the Bent Oak, Texas series emerged. An aspiring author for most of her life, it took a foray into the MM romance genre to spark the steamy scenes and blazing banter Bix now weaves into her novels. Accompanying her on her writing exploits are her two dogs and multitude of cats (seven at last count). An avid traveler, Bix has started to view her expeditions as interviews for her future home. Born and raised in Texas, she is eager to move somewhere with fewer politicians, hurricanes and flooding. Connect with Bix at http://www.bixbarrow.com

Author Website: https://www.bixbarrow.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/bixbarrow

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/bixbarrow

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bixbarrow/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21740152.Bix_Barrow

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/bix-barrow/

Author Amazon: https://amazon.com/author/bixbarrow

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Book Excerpt

Head Over Feels

by Bix Barrow

Unique Excerpt

(Felix’s POV)

My alarm went off too early for my taste. The insistent buzzing broke me out of a deep sleep, and I woke confused about where I was for a moment. I’d been sleeping with my face pressed into a pillow, and I blinked as I sat up and glanced around. Malcolm wasn’t in the bed, and the sheets next to me were cold.

The room was a little stark, but it could’ve been due to Malcolm not having lived in the house very long. The bed had a black metal headboard with two crossbars. The comforter was white with a black swirling pattern and a significant swath of dark brown cat hair. There was no rug on the hardwood floor, and a tall black chest of drawers was the only other piece of furniture in the room. I guessed Malcolm didn’t spend much time in here.

I picked up my phone and thumbed off the alarm. I had a couple of hours before I needed to be at the rescue ranch.

Malcolm appeared in the doorway, wearing some ancient-looking sweatpants and no shirt. His hair was damp. I spared a brief regret for missing an opportunity to suggest sharing the shower.

“Hey,” he said. His face was almost expressionless. Fuck, was he going to be awkward again? I would’ve liked to take a moment to appreciate his furry chest, but not if he wasn’t into it, so I kept my eyes trained on his face. I was acutely conscious of my nakedness under the sheet, and not in a sexy way.

“When do you need to leave?” Malcolm asked. “I can make breakfast.”

Breakfast? Would that be weird? But he was offering, and I didn’t want to make it weird if he wasn’t weirded out. I wished I could tell what he was thinking.

“Um, sure. I don’t have a set appointment, but I need to go home and change before I drive out to… a ranch outside of town this morning sometime.” Jason had asked me to come over and look at an elderly alpaca they’d taken in. She had a limp, and Doc Pinkerton said it was a muscle strain.

Malcolm gave a sharp nod. “I should head to the office early as well. Feel free to use the shower. Come to the kitchen when you’re done.” He pivoted on his cane and then vanished down the hallway.

Well, okay. Were we supposed to pretend we hadn’t seen each other naked? I mean, I didn’t expect any boyfriend-y behavior like kissing me awake or bringing me coffee in bed. But after a night of hot sex, a guy likes to at least be ogled a little the next morning, you know?

My clothes had been folded neatly and placed on the chest of drawers. I showered as quickly as I could, then got dressed. Maybe it’d be better to skip breakfast and take off.

But when I found Malcolm in the kitchen, he’d already plated our food. Eggs, bacon and toast. Coffee was already poured, milk and sugar displayed prominently to the side.

“Come eat,” he ordered, shoving one of the chairs back for me.

Well, I was hungry. Internally shrugging, I sat. “Thanks.” I’d eat as quickly as possible and then bolt.

Mariposa sauntered in. After winding herself around my ankles a couple of times, she jumped up into the chair to my left. I raised my eyebrows and glanced at Malcolm, but he ignored me. He forked up a bit of egg from his plate and held it out to Mariposa. She daintily accepted the offering, and Malcolm withdrew his fork and began eating again.

“Um, you know cats lick themselves everywhere, don’t you?”

Malcolm shrugged and sipped his coffee. One eyebrow went up as if in challenge. “You know some men lick their lovers everywhere, don’t you?”

He’d barely spoken to me all morning, and now he was making sex jokes? Screw that noise. I glared at him. “There’s no reason last night has to make things awkward, Malcolm.”

He sighed and looked down at his plate, then back up at me. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just… been a while for me. I’m out of practice or something.”

“We’re good,” I reassured him. “It was only casual. Nobody’s expecting any commitments.”

He nodded, and we both focused on finishing our breakfasts. At least the tension in the air had eased a little.

After we’d eaten, Malcolm rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher before grabbing his car keys. “Let’s go out the side door here.”

“Sure.” I picked up my messenger bag from the living room, checked my phone was in my pocket, and followed him out to the carport.

We stepped out into the humid morning air. Mockingbirds called to each other, drowning out every other bird who might have wanted to greet the day. I wandered over to look Malcolm’s giant convertible while he shut the door and locked it.

“Felix,” he said. I turned to look back at him. “I wanted to—”

I caught sight of my sedan at the end of the driveway. “Fucking hell!” I shouted. “Are you kidding me!” I ran toward the car.

Sitting on the roof, right over the driver’s door, was a small brown cardboard box.

Blog Tour: West on Grainger by KC Burn + Book Excerpt

On July 10, 2023July 10, 2023 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book EventsLeave a comment

KC Burn has a new MM Paranormal book out (gay, bi): West on Grainger. And there’s a giveaway.

Is Sandy Bottom Bay truly full of ghosts?

Wendell Weston is in a slump. Paranormal stories are his life. His income. His sole focus for as long as he can remember, not that he actually believes any of it is real. His obsession has complicated his love life, but for the most part, he hasn’t minded. But now his muse has gone quiet. In search of inspiration, he flies across the country to the purportedly haunted bed and breakfast, just before Haunt Fest. Soured on romance by the cynicism and superficiality of the Hollywood actors he works with, he’s not expecting a chance encounter with an attractive man to go anywhere.

But Kyle Grainger isn’t just a pretty face. He also hosts local ghost walks. The closest thing to an expert Wendell has encountered, and with any luck, Kyle will lead him to a spectral encounter. Before long, Wendell realizes he wants to follow Kyle anywhere, ghost or not. As a true skeptic, Wendell doesn’t believe he’ll see a ghost for real, but he’s going to have fun trying. Especially with Kyle. One of the many local legends will surely trigger his muse, but in the meantime, getting to know a sweet, mesmerizing man would make the trip worthwhile.

Wouldn’t it be amazing to encounter a ghost?

That’s what Kyle thinks every time he hosts another ghost walk in Sandy Bottom Bay. Not once in hundreds of tours has he seen one, but he remains hopeful. Kyle hasn’t had a lot of amazing in his life. After an injury in college, he had to pivot on his life’s dream. He’s content, more or less, professionally. His romantic dry spell, on the other hand, could turn the Everglades into the Sahara. Wendell is an unexpected pleasure, one Kyle hopes is more than a Haunt Fest hookup.

What if the ghost isn’t harmless?

After one of the other guests at the local bed and breakfast dies suddenly, Wendell and Kyle experience a number of odd occurrences that suggest Kyle might be more sensitive to spirits than either of them imagined. If Wendell can’t shake his skepticism about the paranormal, Kyle’s sanity and even his life could be the price they pay.

Warnings: self harm (appears off page), references to murder

Universal Buy Link

Giveaway

KC is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47288/?

Excerpt

A crash broke the silence, shattering the sense that they were alone in the world together.

In unison, they both stood up, Wendell’s heart pounding as he strained to listen.

“Did someone fall? Should I call the police or an ambulance?” He couldn’t hear any cries of pain or pleas for help.

Kyle darted his gaze around. “It sounded more like something fell? Not heavy enough for a person, I don’t think.”

True. And maybe not thump-y enough to be a body hitting the ground. But better safe than sorry.

“I need to check this out”.

“I’ll come with you.”

Wendell smiled gratefully at Kyle. He’d much rather not be alone if there was an emergency. He snatched up his phone and keyring, then led Kyle into the lobby.

“Where do you think it came from? Upstairs?”

Kyle shrugged. “Maybe. But it sounded closer than that. I think.”

He hoped he wouldn’t have to start knocking on doors. Like Kyle said, it didn’t sound loud enough to be a human body, but if someone was hurt in their suite, well, he had a responsibility for that, didn’t he?

They peeked into the tea room and the main dining room, both of which were dim and obviously empty. Wendell flicked on lights but that only confirmed that the rooms were empty and undisturbed, ready to serve guests tomorrow first thing.

“Library’s next.” Then the game room. Then opening unoccupied rooms. Not long before he’d have to figure out if he had to start knocking on doors. Pretty much the last thing he wanted to do.

Kyle nodded, and gestured for Wendell to proceed.

Wendell flicked a switch by the door and various tabletop lamps flickered to life, filling the room with a serene yellow glow. This particular room had no windows—the one existing window had been blocked up at some point to accommodate the later addition of a fireplace—and as such, always required lighting.

Wendell strode into the room, almost at the far wall, when he spotted it.

“This must be it.” He turned back to Kyle, who hovered in the doorway. “Is something wrong?”

An indecipherable expression crossed Kyle’s face, before he sucked in a breath and walked into the room.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Uh. Okay.” Something definitely was, but Wendell wasn’t about to poke his new friend about something sensitive. “Anyone else here?” Wendell called out.

“Don’t say that,” Kyle said from just inside the doorway.

“Why not?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “This town is full of ghosts. You don’t want to accidentally invite one in.”

Wendell’s eyes widened. “For real?”

“Eh. I don’t know. I’ve never seen a ghost, but Eddie—he’s a medium—and he says stuff like that all the time.”

Wendell made a mental note to seek him out at some point during his stay. Interviewing a ‘real’ medium would be excellent research.

Then Kyle approached close enough to see what Wendell had found. “What the hell happened here?”

It looked like someone had swept an arm across an entire shelf of books, sweeping them to the floor, along with some sort of ceramic sculpture, which lay in shards on the floor amongst the haphazard pile of hardcover books. This had to be the source of the crashing sound they’d heard.

Wendell frowned. “If we were back home, I’d assume we’d had an earthquake, and these books hadn’t been shelved securely or something. But you don’t get quakes out here, do you?”

Kyle shrugged. “Not that I’ve ever heard of. I guess there’s a first time for everything, but wouldn’t we have felt an earthquake strong enough to dump books off their shelves? I’ve never been in an earthquake.”

“Yeah, we definitely would have noticed that.”

“Kids, then? A stupid prank?”

Wendell chewed at his bottom lip. “Think there’s any way outsiders, like kids from the town, could easily get in here and do this? Although I have no idea why they would.”

“The Lady isn’t exactly Fort Knox, but I also don’t see any reason why anyone, kids or not, would sneak in here to do this. And it’s not like there aren’t any security measures.”

“Yeah, I know. So weird.” But it wasn’t a prison. Any number of employees, past and present, could have either gotten around the current security. Maybe it had been a localized weather phenomenon?

And just like that, Wendell could believe it was a freak weather thing as a gust of chilly air swept across his neck.

Kyle also rubbed his arms. “It’s cold in here.”

One of the table lamps nearby flickered, then the bulb blew with a sharp pop.

Kyle yelled, and clutched at his chest. Wendell flinched, then curled a lip at the shards of lightbulb glass that had been added to the mess on the floor.

“Can you grab me a broom or something to clean this up? I’ll start putting the books back.”

Within minutes, the mess had been cleared up but the vibe between him and Kyle was still weird.

“You sure you’re okay?” Wendell asked as they returned to the lobby.

The question got him a big sigh. “It’s stupid but I’ve never liked that room. I don’t know why.”

“Haunted? The Orange Lady?” Wendell could not be that lucky. But Kyle snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Not hardly. I don’t think there have ever been any sightings of her in the library. Besides, I’m sure I’m not sensitive to ghosts, or I would have seen one at least once during the many, many ghost tours I’ve done.”

“And you don’t think hating a room for no good reason might be a haunting?”

Kyle smirked, and Wendell smiled back, relieved to see Kyle’s good mood returning.

“Nope. It’s probably something wonky in the proportion of the rooms and it’s messing with my equilibrium or something. Maybe asbestos.”

“Asbestos?” That was the sort of horror story Wendell was not interested in living. Not a tiny bit. “Wouldn’t there have been inspections or something to correct that?”

“I’m just kidding. But I wasn’t kidding when I said that room hadn’t been changed since the house was built.”

“Original? That’s pretty cool, actually. What about the rest of the place?”

“The guest rooms upstairs are mostly original too.”

“I suppose so.” Nevertheless, the mental gears that Wendell had feared were rusted over for good had, well, they hadn’t started moving. Nothing as solid as a faint idea. But this simple discussion tweaked something in his mind. Like it was lubing his gears, or scrubbing away the rust. Preparing for work. Too soon for hope yet, but if he relaxed and let it happen, he might be able to coax his muse back.

“And I guess you haven’t seen the Orange Lady, have you?”

“Nope. But I haven’t been here overnight, either. She doesn’t show herself during the day, or so I’m told.”

Kyle’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of a tight pocket.

“I have to get ready or I’m going to be late for my tour.” Kyle grabbed his bag and swanned into the employee bathroom.

Shortly after, Kyle emerged wearing the same pirate-esque outfit he’d worn the previous night, except this time his eyeliner was thicker and more dramatic.

Butterflies swooped and soared in Wendell’s belly. Kyle was just so beautiful. Too beautiful for a writer nerd like him.

That didn’t stop those damned butterflies.

Author Bio

KC Burn is a Canadian transplanted to Florida who writes happy-ever-afters about men loving men, whether they’re psychics, space travelers, aliens, professors, construction workers, cops, amateur sleuths… you name it, she’ll probably write it. She’s got a pair of black cats, aka muses/nuisances, and a supportive, understanding hubby.

Author Website: https://kcburn.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/authorkcburn

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/kcburn

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorkcburn/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/kcburn

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/kc-burn/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/K.C.-Burn/author/B0051QXRCQ

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Book Excerpt

Kyle stood under the shade of an old oak tree and watched Wendell peer at the engravings on various gravestones. One of his teachers had brought his class on a field trip here to do rubbings of gravestones and something else historical related, but he didn’t recall anything of significance, historical or otherwise, in the gravestones they looked at. But he’d rather hang out in this cemetery than the library at the Lady. Perhaps he was just allergic to books that weren’t on his Kindle.

Wendell would occasionally pause and take a picture of various stones, rub away some of the moss, or pull back creeping ivy.

He could hardly believe Wendell had blurted out that he wanted to start dating. Amazed and thrilled, but so surprised. Sure, Wendell was only in town for a short amount of time, but that could be a good thing. A test run. Or, if things went well… no, he wasn’t going to leap ahead like he often did. He was going to be chill. Take things as they came. Be a normal person. The complete opposite of what he’d been when Wendell had asked about Eddie.

A breeze from the ocean ruffled Wendell’s hair and he brushed it out of his face in a distracted manner. Definitely more intense than the average tourist, but maybe not as intense as some of the hardcore paranormalists?

“What made you come to Sandy Bottom Bay?” Kyle wandered over to the tombstone Wendell was crouched over. He wasn’t going to stay out in the sun long. It might be edging into autumn but the sun was still strong and Kyle had not applied his heavy-duty sunscreen this morning, since he’d anticipated hanging out at the store most of the day.

“Oh, well, I saw an episode of this show, Phantoms?”

Kyle’s earlier anger came boiling back. “Oh really?”

Wendell rocked back on his heels and stared up at Kyle, who had been unable to hide his ire about the host and the damage that man had nearly done to people he cared about.

“You don’t like Phantoms?”

“The host is a total jerk and I refuse to even speak his name.”

“Agreed, he’s a total jerk. Did you meet him when he was filming here?”

“Yes, and I hope to never repeat the experience. He needs to drop off the face of the earth.”

Wendell laughed. “I could get behind that.”

“How do you know he’s an jerk? I mean, he seems so charming on the show. It was a real disappointment to find out how self-centered he is in person.”

Wendell stared at him for a moment before standing. “We’re going to try dating, right? We agreed to that? I mean, I’m only here for a few months, but I don’t really like casual, and I’d like to see how it goes.”

“Yes…” Although Kyle had no idea how those two ideas were connected. “I’m interested in that too. If it’s a vacation fling, that’s fine. If it gets more serious than that, we can talk long distance stuff later.”

Wendell nodded and blew out a breath. “And no one told you what I’m doing here?”

“You’re helping out at the inn. That’s all I’ve heard.” And somehow, it had never come up in their recent text conversations.

This time, Wendell’s laugh was rueful. “I honestly thought the small town gossip network functioned better than this.”

“Well, I heard that you were coming long before you got here.” Kyle frowned. “But it sounds like you’ve… got a secret?”

“It’s not really a secret. But I guess it could change things. I probably should have told you earlier.”

Oh great. Just what he needed. “Let me guess. You’re married?” Kyle wasn’t going down that road again. No way, no how.

Wendell’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. It’s nothing like that.”

“It’s getting hot out here. Let’s go by the Dairy Devil, and find a quiet place to talk.”

“Dairy Devil?”

“Yup. Soft serve ice cream. It gets mobbed in the summer, but it shouldn’t be too busy right now.”

“Maybe some lunch afterward?” Wendell was hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe.” Although it would depend entirely on what this ‘secret’ was. Because if it was Wendell was married or had an open marriage or whatever crap guys tried to pull when they wanted their cake and to eat it too, Kyle wasn’t going to stick around for a meal.

Ice cream was more carbs than he needed, but he had a bad feeling he was going to need the ice cream therapy after this discussion.

“Lead the way.”

They left the cemetery, and Kyle only hoped this fledgling relationship wasn’t as dead as the cholera victims whose graves they walked over on the way out.

Guest Post: The Art of Brevity: Writing the Novella by Elizabeth Maria Naranjo

On October 25, 2022October 14, 2024 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, Guest PostLeave a comment

In early 2017 I read an enthusiastic review about a newly translated novel by Argentinian author Samanta Schweblin. The review gave very little away but described the book as surreal and horrifying and something to be read in one sitting. That sounded pretty intriguing, so I headed to the bookstore and bought a copy. The novel was called Fever Dream.

I did indeed read Fever Dream in one sitting. Not only was it everything the reviewer had promised—strange and foreboding and beautifully written—it was also incredibly brief. At fewer than 30,000 words, this masterful slice of horror is technically a novella—a story that falls somewhere between 20,000 and 50,000 words.

Many renowned classics are novella length: John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men is around 30,000 words; Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea is 27,000, and Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle is fewer than 45,000.

There’s just something about a story carved down to its bare essentials that feels especially potent.

Horror stories in particular can benefit from brevity. Sustaining an atmosphere of claustrophobic dread is easier to achieve in 150 pages vs. 600. A narrower word count naturally leads to more clarity and focus, something that can get lost with a wide cast of characters and multiple subplots.

When writing the novella, get to know your protagonist well and keep the story focused on her. Make sure your plot doesn’t stray from the main conflict; limit or eliminate subplots. Carefully consider backstory; for every detail you give about your main character’s past, ask yourself if it really matters. Finally, use a narrow time frame for your story, and only a few settings.

It takes discipline to simplify your story and choose your details wisely, but learning the art of brevity pays off with a tightly plotted narrative that your reader won’t want to put down.

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About the Author

Elizabeth Maria Naranjo is the award-winning author of The Fourth Wall (WiDo Publishing, 2014). Her short fiction and creative nonfiction have been published in Brevity Magazine, Superstition Review, Fractured Lit, The Portland Review, Hunger Mountain, Hospital Drive, Reservoir Road, Literary Mama, Motherwell, and a few other places. Her stories have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best American Essay, and Best of the Net. All links to Elizabeth’s work can be found on her website at elizabethmarianaranjo.com.

Social Media Links:

#thehouseonlindenwaynaranjo

Tweets by emarianaranjo

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8124819.Elizabeth_Maria_Naranjo

– Blog Tour Calendar

September 19th @ The Muffin

Join us as we celebrate the launch of The House on Linden Way by Elizabeth Maria Naranjo. Crystal interviews the author about her book and also gives away a copy to one lucky reader.

https://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

September 22nd @ Deborah Adams

Today, The House on Linden Way is in the spotlight at Deborah Adams blog with a guest post written by Elizabeth Maria Naranjo titled: Exploring our Deepest Fears Through Speculative Fiction.

http://www.deborah-adams.com/blog

September 23rd @ The Faerie Review

In today’s spotlight at The Faerie Review is Elizabeth Maria Naranjo’s latest book The House on Linden Way – readers will be thrilled to learn more about this fabulous read!

https://www.thefaeriereview.com/

September 26 @ What is That Book About

Elizabeth Maria Naranjo is in the spotlight at What is That Book About as readers learn more about Naranjo’s thriller: The House on Linden Way! Don’t miss this blog stop on Naranjo’s WOW! Women on Writing book blog tour!

https://www.whatisthatbookabout.com/

September 27th @ Writer, Writer, Pants on Fire with Mindy McGinnis

Elizabeth Maria Naranjo pens today’s guest post at Mindy’s blog. Learn more about Naranjo’s latest book The House on Linden Way as well as today’s topic: Traditional vs Self Publishing and My Experience with Both as Naranjo offers some insight into her stories!

https://www.mindymcginnis.com/blog

September 30th @ The Faerie Review

Hear some of Elizabeth Maria Naranjo’s favorite October stories as she pens today’s guest post at The Faerie Review. This is also your chance to learn more about her latest thriller: The House on Linden Way. Don’t miss this opportunity!

https://www.thefaeriereview.com/

October 1st @ Boots, Shoes and Fashion

Linda at Boots, Shoes and Fashion shares her thoughts after reading Elizabeth Maria Naranjo’s latest book called The House on Linden Way. This is a thrilling read and we can’t wait to hear what Linda thinks!

https://bootsshoesandfashion.com/

October 2nd @ Word Magic with Fiona Ingram

Fiona from Word Magic is hosting Elizabeth Maria Naranjo today. This is a great opportunity for readers to learn about Naranjo’s latest book: The House on Linden Way as well as read her guest post titled: The Lingering Ghosts of Our Childhood Homes. Readers will be thrilled to hear from Naranjo!

https://fionaingramauthor.blogspot.com/

October 3rd @ One Writer’s Journey

Sue Bradford Edwards offers her review of The House on Linden Way by fellow author Elizabeth Maria Naranjo. Find out what Sue thinks and learn more about this thriller!

https://suebe.wordpress.com/

October 3rd @ World of My Imagination

Nicole Pyles of WOW! Women on Writing offers a thoughtful review of The House on Linden Way by Elizabeth Maria Naranjo – readers won’t want to miss the opportunity to learn more about this thrilling book and it’s talented author!

https://worldofmyimagination.com/

October 8th @ Boots, Shoes and Fashion

Linda interviews Elizabeth Maria Naranjo about her latest thriller, The House on Linden Way! This book blog tour is one readers won’t want to miss – it’s THRILLING!

https://bootsshoesandfashion.com/

October 10th @Girl Zombie Authors

Chris at Girl Zombie Authors shares her review of Elizabeth Maria Naranjo’s The House on Linden Way – will it be too thrilling for this fellow author? Find out TODAY and be thrilled!

https://girlzombieauthors.blogspot.com/

October 10th @ Choices with Madeline Sharples

Today’s post is titled: Tips For Getting Unstuck While Writing Your Novel and it’s penned by none other than Elizabeth Maria Naranjo as she just released her latest thriller The House on Linden Way. Find out more today!

http://madelinesharples.com/

October 11th @ Author Anthony Avina

Author Anthony Avina puts fellow author Elizabeth Maria Naranjo in the spotlight today as readers learn more about The House on Linden Way – this is a book blog tour stop that will thrill and delight!

Homepage

October 13th @ Knotty Needle Creative

Judy reviews The House on Linden Way for readers at Knotty Needle Creative – find out more about this thriller and it’s talented author Elizabeth Maria Naranjo!

http://knottyneedle.blogspot.com/

October 16th @ Literary Quicksand

Jessica from Literary Quicksand reviews The House on Linden Way by Elizabeth Maria Naranjo – what will she think? Will fellow author Elizabeth be able to thrill Jessica? Stop by today to find out!

https://literaryquicksand.com/

October 18th @ Author Anthony Avina

Author Anthony Avina reviews the work of fellow author Elizabeth Maria Naranjo and offers his thoughts about The House on Linden Way!

Homepage

October 20th @ Reading is My Remedy

Chelsea from Reading is My Remedy offers her review of Elizabeth Maria Naranjo’s The House on Linden Way for readers of her blog. This is a thriller and we can’t wait to find out Chelsea’s take on it!

https://readingismyremedy.wordpress.com/

October 23rd @ Literary Quicksand

Jessica from Literary Quicksand interviews Elizabeth Maria Naranjo – learn more about this talented author and her latest thriller, The House on Linden Way!

https://literaryquicksand.com/

October 25th @ Author Anthony Avina

Author Elizabeth Maria Naranjo pens today’s guest post at fellow author Anthony Avina’s blog with the title: The Art of Brevity; Writing a Novella. Hear from Elizabeth and find out more about her latest thriller, The House on Linden Way.

Homepage

October 27th @ The Frugalista Mom

The Frugalista Mom offers her review of The House on Linden Way by Elizabeth Maria Naranjo. Find out more and stop by today!

https://thefrugalistamom.com/

October 30th @ Wildwood Reads

Megan from Wildwood Reads offers her review of the thriller The House on Linden Way, by Elizabeth Maria Naranjo! Stop by and get in the mood for tomorrow!

https://wildwoodreads.com/

COVER REVEAL: Anticipated Angel by Laura Navarre

On March 1, 2022March 1, 2022 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, book cover reveal, Book EventsLeave a comment

Laura Navarre has a new erotic MM sci-fi romance coming out in April – Anticipated Angel (Prequel to the Astral Heat Romance) – and we have the cover reveal. And there’s a giveaway!

On an alien world that crucifies men for prohibited desires, two boyhood best friends risk the ultimate punishment to explore a forbidden passion.

Nero: He’s the most intimidating guy at our intergalactic next-gen leaders’ camp, and his psycho galactic tyrant of a dad has a crucifixion fetish. Our two races are deadly enemies, but Dex was my boyhood best friend. Suddenly this summer, he’s all grown up—and suddenly he can’t seem to stop staring at me. I don’t know whether to be afraid that it’s all a figment of my telepathic imagination…or that every dangerous desire we’re forbidden to acknowledge is searingly real.

Dex: I’m one combat-to-the-death away from the imperial command I’ve devoted my life to achieve. All I need to do is keep my dick in my pants. Besides, Ben Nero’s my oathsworn brother. Not to mention the most gorgeous, most maddeningly unattainable, most sought-after guy at leaders’ camp. There’s no way he’d ever look twice at a buttoned-tight, hyper-competitive, compulsive overachiever like me.

Until the night I blundered in on Nero in the shower. Which was a total catastrophic mistake. Because now I’ve seen what he looks like naked…now I’ve heard the way he sounds when he’s moaning my name…how in blazes do I keep him at arms’ length? Because my father crucifies men for loving men.

Which means letting Ben Nero in close, the way I’m burning to do, means risking the ultimate punishment.

For both of us.

Anticipated Angel is a steamy, angsty, friends-to-lovers MM new adult sci fi romance novella and the standalone prequel to the award-winning Astral Heat Romance Series.

Amazon | Universal Buy Link

About the Series:

The Astral Heat Romance Series is a steamy, angsty, enemies-to-lovers MMMF poly sci fi action romance series with M/M. Perfect for fans of Tymber Dalton, Kathryn Moon, Ariana Nash, and Pippa DaCosta. Here’s what early reviewers are saying about this category bestselling LGBTQ+ sci fi erotic romance series:

“Fast-paced, erotic, and brutal.” – Library Journal

“Intense and incendiary! This is hot stuff not for the faint of heart.” – Viragos Reading Odyssey

“This book just grabs and doesn’t let go….One of the steamiest books I’ve ever read.” – Amazon reviewer

“Astronomically out of this world action suspense drama, topped off with XXX sizzle! …Hang on to your space helmet, this is one wild ride!” – Goodreads reviewer

“This swashbuckling reverse harem Roman Empire in space saga turns up the heat to incendiary…a pulse racing read…Fabulous fun! I loved it!” – Alicia on Amazon and Goodreads

This award-winning series has notched contest wins in the RWA Fantasy, Futuristic & Paranormal On the Far Side Contest (speculative romance) and the 2021 Chesapeake Romance Writers’ Rudy Contest (erotic romance).

The Astral Heat Romance Series contains explicit M/M, M/F, and MMMF encounters.

Giveaway

Laura is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this reveal:

a Rafflecopter giveaway https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47225/?

Excerpt

Still damp and dripping under the tunic and breeches he’d dragged over his desperately aroused body, breathless and panting from pounding through the jungle after his frenzied best friend, Ben Nero stood on the step outside Dex’s dormitory cabin and glared at the locked door.

Dex never locked his door. They’d been coming and going from each other’s dorms day and night for three summers straight.

Sure, Dex was arrogant, aggressive, pigheaded, surly, introverted, hypercompetitive, a compulsive overachiever. The golden boy at leaders’ camp. In other words, a typical Mogadon.

Nero had hated him on sight. Until everything changed.

Since the night Dex waded into battle to defend him, Nero had been secretly crushing on the guy.

Now—this summer—their final summer when they both gained their majority and left leaders’ camp behind forever, the sexual dynamic between them had torqued so much tighter. Their unspoken chemistry had condensed into an alchemical compound so volatile it was practically pyrophoric. With Dex grown into something between a deadly predator and a tawny god, Nero knew his secret summer crush stood in acute danger of developing into a connection fathoms deeper.

And far more lethal to his guarded heart.

But given Dex’s inherited battery of hang-ups and all that sexual baggage his best friend was carting around, the state of his heart was one secret Nero fully intended to keep.

Until tonight. Cat’s out of the cave now. Of all the possible, gods-cursed times for Dex to show up for a late-night shower…

For at least the twentieth time, he cursed his own rotten timing. Wryly he admitted the inferno of heat glowing in his chest and scorching his face had less to do with exertion than sheer embarrassment.

No use pretending it didn’t happen. Dex has been pushing me away all summer. What he just saw me doing while I moaned his name will probably finish the job and end our friendship for good.

Especially with their rival planets poised on the brink of war. Nero huffed out a breath harsh with frustration.

The next time I encounter Dex Draven after summer camp will probably be in deep space at the wrong end of a solar cannon.

Grimly Nero jabbed a finger at the entry button—for the third farking time. The chime caroled away like his whole world wasn’t imploding around him. Beyond that door, his psychic senses whispered, Dex was pacing his cabin’s spartan confines, wearing a path in the silica floor.

Staring at his own locked door, heart slamming against his sternum like a meteor bombardment. If he didn’t open it…if he didn’t answer…

Nero shoved a mental barrier between them to give the guy a little privacy as a basic matter of telepath ethics. Same way he’d been doing all summer. Fighting like hell to do the decent thing and respect his best friend’s boundaries and stay out of his head.

Now he scowled at the stubborn silence but held tight to his temper.

“Dex?” He pitched his voice to carry. “Let me in. We need to talk. Anyway, you, uh, left your blaster in the shower house.”

The silence stretched between them. A silence tighter than a pressurized airlock, shredded by the shrill scream of a hunting panther. Intuition told him the critter was on the prowl, hunting for blood and savage with hunger. If the cat tracked him to Dex’s doorstep, Nero would have to defend himself. Not with Dex’s blaster, which he’d buckled around his own hips, but with the psi fire he was learning to channel as he honed his rapidly expanding arsenal of psychic powers.

Doggedly he pounded on the door. “Come on, Dex. I know you’re in there. I could feel you fulminating halfway down the path. Open up.”

“No bloody talking. I’m not in the mood.” Dex’s muffled voice sounded surly. And more than a little desperate. “For gods’ sake, Ben, it’s after midnight. Go away.”

Nero squared his shoulders and hardened his voice. “Open this door or I’ll open it for you.”

Violet sparks flared at his fingertips. Fiercely he reeled in the billowing surge of psi fire sizzling through his channels before he lost control and blew Dex’s door through the opposite wall. Tonight he wanted to talk to Dex, not fight him. And a full-out assault would only trigger all those primitive Mogadon instincts Dex was always striving to suppress.

Apparently some god with a fondness for bisexual adolescent telepaths decided to take pity on Nero’s awkward dilemma and whisper a word of reason in Dex’s ear. With a chirp, the maglock released and the door swung wide.

“Finally.” Pushing out a breath, Nero strode into the moonlit darkness. “What the hells, Dex…”

His words stuttered to a stop.

In the narrow confines of the shadowy cabin whose angles and corners he knew by heart, Dex stood silhouetted against the viewport. Wearing nothing but an insubstantial pair of sleeping trousers that clung to his supple hips and spectacular ass.

The light of Paragon’s three moons limned his broad shoulders and corded back and bulging triceps in a way that made Nero burn to sink his teeth in and just nibble his way down the guy’s body. Starlight flamed in Dex’s cropped golden hair and caressed the sun-bronzed skin Nero longed to trace with his tongue.

Nero sucked in a hit of oxygen to clear his damn head and felt his senses spin. He was already half-drunk on lotus pollen, a seductive sweetness like spicy sugar tickling the back of his throat. Now his head was reeling with the potent kick of Dex’s scent—that heady whiff of pheromones Mogadon males exuded that telegraphed aggression, territoriality, or arousal.

Nero ached to know which of those stimuli was driving Dex tonight.

Ferociously he fought back the temptation to shove aside his inconvenient ethics, peek inside Dex’s brain, and find out for himself. And screw his farking ethics and screw his best friend’s privacy.

Author Bio

A long time ago in a galaxy far away, Laura Navarre was an award-winning dark historical romance author for Harlequin, while her diabolical twin Nikki Navarre wrote sexy spy romance. In a daring bid to escape a global pandemic, armed only with an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction and a professional background in weapons of mass destruction, Laura voyaged through a wormhole to an alternate universe where she crafts turbocharged, epic, hyper-erotic poly science fiction romance starring three sexy bi heroes, one seriously kickass heroine, and plenty of sizzling outer space action.

Interstellar Angel is a steamy, angsty, enemies-to-lovers MMMF poly sci fi action romance and your gateway to the Astral Heat universe, where Star Wars meets 50 Shades by way of The Hunger Games. Outer space adventure just got a whole lot hotter!

Author Website: https://www.LauraNavarreSciFi.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.Facebook.com/LauraNavarreAuthor

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.Facebook.com/LauraNavarreInterstellarRomance

Author Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/LauraNavarre

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/LauraNavarreAuthor

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/LauraNavarre

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/laura-navarre/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Laura-Navarre/e/B004NG6CTK/

COVER REVEAL: Tangents & Tachyons by J. Scott Coatsworth

On November 29, 2021November 28, 2021 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, book cover reveal, Book Events1 Comment

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Tangents & Tachyons - J. Scott Coatsworth

J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci fi collection out: Tangents & Tachyons. And there’s a giveaway!

Tangents & Tachyons is Scott’s second anthology – six sci fi and sci-fantasy shorts that run the gamut from time travel to hopepunk and retro spec fic:

Eventide: Tanner Black awakes to find himself in his own study, staring out the window at the end of the Universe. But who brought him there, and why?

Chinatown: Deryn lives in an old San Francisco department store with his girlfriend Gracie, and scrapes by with his talent as a dreamcaster for the Chinese overlords. But what if a dream could change the world?

Across the Transom: What if someone or something took over your body on an urgent mission to save your world?

Pareidolia: Simon’s not like other college kids. His mind can rearrange random patterns to reveal the images lurking inside. But where did his strange gift come from? And what if there are others like him out there too?

Lamplighter: Fen has a crush on his friend Lewin, who’s in a competing guild. But when the world goes dark, only a little illumination can save it. And only Fen, Lewin and their friend Alissa can light the spark. A Liminal Sky short.

Prolepsis: Sean is the closeted twenty-five-year-old editor of an 80’s sci-fi ‘zine called Prolepsis. When an unabashedly queer story arrives from a mysterious writer, it blows open Sean’s closet door, and offers him the chance to change the world – and the future.

Plus two flash fiction stories – The System and The Frog Prince, never before published.

This is the first time all of these stories have all been collected in one place.

Giveaway

Scott is giving away a full set of his previously self-published eBooks to one lucky winner:

a Rafflecopter giveaway https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47214/?

Excerpt

From Pareidolia

(Never Before Published)

Simon slammed the lid on his sugar-free, two-pump, pulse-heated vanilla latte, before he might accidentally get a good look at the pattern on the coffee’s surface.

Ethan, the barista, usually covered it for him, but he’d forgotten this time. Simon, distracted by the coffee shop’s textured wall, had almost missed it.

He’d jerked his gaze away when the whorls and lines in the plaster had shifted into a mountain landscape. He looked around as casually as he could manage, hoping no one had noticed the wall moving.

Simon put his prescription glasses back on. They blurred his vision just enough to block his curse from shifting any other patterns. If anyone ever found out what he could do, they’d stick him in a cage like a lab rat.

Fooling the optometrist had been easy enough—he’d just pretended that the clear letters were fuzzy and vice versa. Unfortunately, they made the handsome barista fuzzy too.

Simon sighed under his breath. An imperfect solution to an unwanted gift. He waved. “Have a good one.”

“You too.” Ethan winked at him.

Simon hurried out of the Student Union, keeping his eyes pointed forward, avoiding the patterns that flocked to him like birds to seed—clouds in the sky, the grains of wood on a table… even the swirls on Tracey Martin’s designer bag in class. He emerged into the fresh morning air, ducking as a drone zipped past overhead carrying a pizza to someone’s dorm.

He’d learned to control his curse in elementary school. Mostly. The glasses helped, and if he blurred his vision when the patterns started to become actual things, they stopped. Usually. Still, he’d gone to detention more than once for, “whatever you just did to your desk.”

There was a name for seeing things in random patterns—pareidolia. But most people didn’t seem to do it so literally.

“Ally, what’s the time?”

His PA responded in his ear in her usual chipper Italian accent. -It’s eleven-fifty-seven, Simon. You have a class in three minutes.-

“Crap.” He ran down the steps, knocking the wallet out of a woman’s hands. He grabbed it and tossed it to her. “Sorry!”

Then he bolted down the sidewalk, dodging a group of students flicking data over their wrists, and leapt like a track star over a short hedge to shave off fifteen seconds.

One of the Sac State professors shouted after him, “Slow down!”

“Sorry! Late for a lecture!” He hated being late—it drew attention to himself, and he liked to blend in. Plus, it’s a damned good course.

Professor Dandrich’s course—Finding Meaning in Interstellar Noise—was one of his favorites. If he could just find a job like that where he could use his strange ability…

Simon slipped into the hall and slammed into his seat in the front row of the lecture hall at a minute past noon, splashing his latte all over his arm. “Dammit.”

Everyone turned to look at him, and heat rushed to his face. So much for blending in.

Author Bio

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is a full member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

Author Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/jscottcoatsworth

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/jscoatsworth/

Author Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/jscoatsworth

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jscottcoatsworth/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8392709.J_Scott_Coatsworth

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/j-scott-coatsworth/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/J.-Scott-Coatsworth/e/B011AFO4OQ

Day Zero by Kelly deVos Review

On November 16, 2019 By authoranthonyavinablogIn reviewsLeave a comment

I am proud to present an exclusive blog tour stop for Harlequin Press and Inkyard Press!

I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.

A young teenager trying to live her life finds the years of survivalist training given by her father more vital than ever before as a series of disasters hit the country and her father is named the culprit in author Kelly deVos’s novel “Day Zero”.

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The Synopsis

Don’t miss the exhilarating new novel from the author of Fat Girl on a Plane, featuring a fierce, bold heroine who will fight for her family and do whatever it takes to survive. Fans of Susan Beth Pfeffer’s Life As We Knew It series and Rick Yancey’s The 5th Wave series will cheer for this fast-paced, near-future thrill ride.

If you’re going through hell…keep going.

Seventeen-year-old coder Jinx Marshall grew up spending weekends drilling with her paranoid dad for a doomsday she’s sure will never come. She’s an expert on self-heating meal rations, Krav Maga and extracting water from a barrel cactus. Now that her parents are divorced, she’s ready to relax. Her big plans include making it to level 99 in her favorite MMORPG and spending the weekend with her new hunky stepbrother, Toby.

But all that disaster training comes in handy when an explosion traps her in a burning building. Stuck leading her headstrong stepsister, MacKenna, and her precocious little brother, Charles, to safety, Jinx gets them out alive only to discover the explosion is part of a pattern of violence erupting all over the country. Even worse, Jinx’s dad stands accused of triggering the chaos.

In a desperate attempt to evade paramilitary forces and vigilantes, Jinx and her siblings find Toby and make a break for Mexico. With seemingly the whole world working against them, they’ve got to get along and search for the truth about the attacks—and about each other. But if they can survive, will there be anything left worth surviving for?

The Review

The first in a duology, Day Zero is the perfect blend of YA character development and storytelling with political/action-adventure themes and drama. Whenever stories involving terrorist attacks or political conspiracies arise, it is usually within an adult setting and involves said adults. What really stood out was the point of view turning instead to the teenage daughter of a survivalist who becomes the main suspect in the attacks across the country.

The book also is highly relevant, showing a nation torn apart by politics and the affects of social classes and finances can have on the divide in our nation. Seeing a political figure rise to power and the shadow of a conspiracy rising blends with the personal struggles of new heroine Jinx, who uses her knowledge and skills not only to survive but get to the heart of the true threat and discovers secrets and hidden agendas that will rock her to her core. She is a powerful new YA hero who shows not only she has the skill and talent to take on enemies, but the emotional core to keep the reader invested and engaged with her and the story as a whole.

The Verdict

Overall a truly wonderful read, Day Zero does a great job of creating a near-future scenario that allows readers to examine the world around them, and to recognize the signs that can lead to the downfall of the world. It’s a story of survival, finding hope and love as the book’s twists and turns will keep readers hanging on the author’s every word, shocking many with future revelations and causing Jinx and the reader to ask themselves, who can they really trust? Grab your copy of Kelly deVos’s novel “Day Zero” to find out for yourselves!

Rating: 10/10

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About the Author

KELLY DEVOS is from Gilbert, Arizona, where she lives with her high school sweetheart husband, amazing teen daughter and superhero dog, Cocoa. She holds a B.A. in Creative Writing from Arizona State University. When not reading or writing, Kelly can typically be found with a mocha in hand, bingeing the latest TV shows and adding to her ever-growing sticker collection. Her debut novel, Fat Girl on a Plane, named one of the “50 Best Summer Reads of All Time” by Reader’s Digest magazine, is available now from HarperCollins.

Kelly’s work has been featured in the New York Times as well as on Salon, Vulture and Bustle.

Buy Links:

Social Links:

Author Website

Twitter: @kdevosauthor

Facebook: @kellydevosbooks

Instagram: @kellydevos

Goodreads

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Book Excerpt From “Day Zero”

Dr. Doomsday’s Guide to Ultimate Survival

Rule One: Always be prepared.

I exhale in relief when MacKenna pulls the car into the Halliwell’s Market parking lot. Because of the Sugar Sales Permit waiting list, old stores like these are the only places that carry Extra Jolt soda. I have to buy it myself, because Mom won’t keep any in the house.

She thinks too much caffeine rots your brain or something. Halliwell’s is a squat brown building that sits across the street from the mall and is next door to the town’s only skyscraper.

The First Federal Building was supposed to be the first piece of a suburban business district designed to rival the hip boroughs of New York. The mayor announced the construction of a movie theater, an apartment complex and an indoor aquarium. But the New Depression hit, and the other buildings never materialized.

The First Federal Building alone soars toward the clouds, an ugly glass rectangle visible from every neighborhood, surrounded by the old town shops that have been there forever. Most of the stores are empty.

We park in front of the market.

Our car nestles in the long shadow of the giant bank building.

Charles gets out and stands on the sidewalk in front of the car.

MacKenna opens her door. She hesitates again. “Listen, I know you might not want to hear this or believe it. But my book report wasn’t about hurting you or getting revenge. I’m trying to get you to see what’s really happening here. That Carver’s election is the start of something bad. We could use you at the rally. You’re one of the few people who understands Dr. Doomsday’s work. You could explain what he did. How he helped Carver cheat to win.”

“I’ve been planning this raid for months,” I say. My stomach churns, sending uncomfortable flutters through my insides. I don’t know what it would mean to talk about my father’s work. What I really want to do is pretend it doesn’t exist. Pretend the world is normal and whole.

I reassure myself with the reminder that there’s no way MacKenna is going to the rally either.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charles give us a small wave. Before MacKenna can say anything else, I get out and grab my backpack.

Inside Halliwell’s, I pick up a blue basket from the stack near the door. The small market is busy and full of other people shopping after school or work. The smell of pine cleaner hits me as we pass the checkout stations. They are super serious about germs and always cleaning between customers.

I leave MacKenna and Charles at the Click N’Grow rack near the door to check out the seed packets that my brother collects. Dad got Charles hooked on this computerized gardening that uses an e-tablet and a series of tiny indoor lights to create the ideal indoor planter box. Each week, they release a new set of exclusive seeds. Their genetic modifications are controversial.

All the soda is in large coolers that line one of the walls of the market. They keep the strange stuff in the corner. Expensive root beers. Ramune imported from Japan. And! Extra! Jolt! I put a few bottles of strawberry in my basket. I snag some grape too. For a second, I consider buying a couple of bottles of doughnut flavor. But that sounds like too much, even for me. The chips are in the next aisle. I load up on cheese puffs and spicy nacho crisps.

MacKenna and Charles are still at the rack near the door, and I try to squeeze by them without attracting any notice. I usually don’t buy unhealthy snacks when I’m with my brother. I smuggle them in my backpack and have a special hiding space in my desk.

My brother has type 1 diabetes, and he’s supposed to check his blood sugar after meals. He can have starchy or sugary snacks only when his glucose level is good or on special occasions.

MacKenna grimaces at a packet of seeds in her hands. “I still don’t like this one. It’s pretty. But still. It’s…carnivorous.”

I have to hand it to her. She really does have a look. She’s pale and white, like me, but she manages to seem like she’s doing it on purpose and not because she’s some kind of vampire- movie reject. Her glossy black hair always rests in perfect waves, and if the journalism thing doesn’t work out, she could definitely have a career in fashion design.

Charles smiles at her. “It’s a new kind of pitcher plant. Like the Cobra Lily.” He points to the picture on the front of the seed packet. “Look at the blue flowers. That’s new.”

“It eats other plants,” MacKenna says.

“You eat plants.”

“But I don’t eat people,” MacKenna says. “There’s got to be some kind of natural law that says you shouldn’t eat your own kind.”

Charles giggles.

So far so good. Until.

My brother trots up behind me and dumps a few packs of seeds in my basket. His gaze lands on my selection of soda and chips. “Can I get some snacks too?”

Crap.

I freeze. “What’s your number?”

Charles pretends he can’t hear me. That’s not a good sign.

“Charles, what’s your number?”

He still doesn’t look at me. “I forgot my monitor today.”

“Well, I have mine.” I kneel down and dig around for the spare glucometer I keep in the front pocket of my backpack. By the time I get it out, MacKenna has already pulled Charles out of his blazer and rolled up the sleeve of his blue dress shirt. I wave the device over the small white sensor disk attached to my brother’s upper arm.

After a few seconds, the glucometer beeps and a number displays on the screen.

221

Crap. Crap. Crap.

“Charles! What did you eat today?”

My brother’s face turns red. “They were having breakfast-for-lunch day at school. Everyone else was having pancakes. Why can’t I have pancakes?”

I sigh. Something about his puckered up little face keeps me from reminding him that if he eats too much sugar he could die. “You know what Mom said. If you eat something you’re not supposed to, you have to get a pass and go to the nurse for your meds.”

My brother’s shoulders slump. “I couldn’t go to the nurse. Hummingbirds were visiting the Chuparosa and…”

Charles is on the verge of tears and frowns even more deeply at the sight of my basket full of junk food.

“Look,” I say. “There are plenty of healthy snacks we can eat. I’ll put this stuff back.”

“That’s right,” MacKenna says, giving Charles’s hand a squeeze. “We can get some popcorn. Yogurt. Um, I saw some really delicious-looking fresh pears back there.”

“And they have the cheese cubes you like,” I add.

We go around the store replacing the cheese puffs and soda with healthy stuff. I hesitate when I have to put back the Extra Jolt, but I really don’t want to make my brother feel bad because I can drink sugary stuff and he can’t.

We pay for the healthy snacks and the seed packets.

I grab the bags and move toward the market’s sliding doors.

I end up ahead of them, waiting outside by the car and facing the store. The shopping center behind Halliwell’s is mostly empty. The shoe store went out of business last year. Strauss Stationers, where everyone used to buy their fancy wedding invitations, closed two years before that. The fish ’n’ chips drive-through is doing okay and has a little crowd in front of the take-out window. Way off in the distance, Saba’s is still open, because in Arizona, cowboy boots and hats aren’t considered optional.

I watch MacKenna and Charles step out of the double doors and into the parking lot. Two little dimples appear on MacKenna’s cheeks when she smiles. Charles has a looseness to his walk. His arms dangle.

There’s a low rumble, like thunder from a storm that couldn’t possibly exist on this perfectly sunny day.

Something’s wrong

In the reflection of the market’s high, shiny windows, I see something happening in the bank building next door. Some kind of fire burning in the lower levels. A pain builds in my chest and I force air into my lungs. My vision blurs at the edges. It’s panic, and there isn’t much time before it overtakes me.

The muscles in my legs tense and I take off at a sprint, grabbing MacKenna and Charles as I pass. I haul them along with me twenty feet or so into the store. We clear the door and run past a man and a woman frozen at the sight of what’s going on across the street.

I desperately want to look back.

But I don’t.

A scream.

A low, loud boom.

My ears ring.

The lights in the store go off.

I’ve got MacKenna by the strap of her maxidress and Charles by the neck. We feel our way in the dim light. The three of us crouch and huddle together behind a cash counter. A few feet in front of us, the cashier who checked us out two minutes ago is sitting on the floor hugging her knees.

We’re going to die.

Charles’s mouth is wide-open. His lips move. He pulls at the sleeve of my T-shirt.

I can’t hear anything.

It takes everything I’ve got to force myself to move.

Slowly

Leaning forward. Pressing my face into the plywood of the store counter, I peek around the corner using one eye to see out the glass door. My eyelashes brush against the rough wood, and I grip the edge to steady myself. I take in the smell of wood glue with each breath.

Hail falls in the parking lot. I realize it’s glass.

My stomach twists into a hard knot.

It’s raining glass.

That’s the last thing I see before a wave of dust rolls over the building.

Leaving us in darkness.

Papa’s Shoes: A Polish shoemaker and his family settle in small-town America by Madeline Sharples Review

On July 2, 2019October 14, 2024 By authoranthonyavinablogIn reviewsLeave a comment

I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.

A man’s journey to escape poverty and provide a better life in America for his family takes a series of unexpected turns as he struggles with tradition and his own beliefs versus the happiness of his daughter in author Madeline Sharples novel, “Papa’s Shoes”.

The Synopsis

Ira Schuman is determined to move his family out of their Polish shtetl to the hope and opportunities he’s heard about in America. But along the way he faces the death of three of his four sons, a wife who does not have the same aspirations as his, and the birth of a daughter, Ava, conceived to make up for the loss of his boys. Ava grows up to be smart, beautiful, and very independent.

Besides having a feisty relationship with her overly-protective mother, Ava falls for the college man who directs her high school senior class play. With the news that she wants to marry a non-Jewish man, Ira realizes that his plan to assimilate in the new world has backfired. Should the young couple marry, he must decide whether to banish his daughter from his family or welcome them with open arms. Even though he won’t attend their wedding, he makes her a pair a wedding shoes. In his mind, the shoes are simply a gift, not a peace offering.

The Review

This historical fiction novel was incredibly well written. It did a great job of showcasing the dual nature of immigration by studying one man’s desire to secure a safe and happy future for his family in the United States, with his other desire to see his daughter marry someone within the same faith and people as they were. It is an in-depth look into the struggle to maintain one’s identity in an ever changing world, and the struggle to allow oneself to be open to change and accept the reality that our children must make their own choices in life, and a parent’s job is to support them and help them throughout those choices.

It was amazing to see just how much of the Jewish culture was explored in this novel, highlighting the resistance to change so many devoted followers of the faith feel as seen in Ira’s wife Ruth, which was strengthened by their strained marriage throughout the novel. The book did a wonderful job of exploring deep character growth and highlighting the natural interactions amongst the cast of characters, helping to highlight the emotional struggle of those involved.

The Verdict

This was a wonderful book to delve into. The author does a great job of highlighting the struggles of immigration, the beliefs and culture of the Jewish people, and the emotional struggle of a father and daughter, the former struggling between tradition and love for his daughter, the latter seeking love and struggling with the thought of losing her family in the process. The book’s beginning sets the tone for the fragility of life that is explored in this novel, and the struggle to aspire for a better life.

The double lives people lead, the heartbreak of following your dreams and passions in life at the cost of losing a family unwilling to accept your different outlook on life, and a simple yet powerful ending make this the perfect read. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy of “Papa’s Shoes” by Madeline Sharples today!

Rating: 10/10

About the Author

Madeline also co-authored Blue-Collar Women: Trailblazing Women Take on Men-Only Jobs (New Horizon Press, 1994), co-edited the poetry anthology, The Great American Poetry Show, Volumes 1, 2 and 3, and wrote the poems for two photography books, The Emerging Goddess and Intimacy (Paul Blieden, photographer). Her poems have also appeared online and in print magazines, e.g., in the 2016 Porter Gulch Review, Yellow Chair’s In the Words of Womyn 2016 anthology, Story Circle Network’s journals and anthologies, the Best of Poetry Salon 2013-2018, and the Vine Leaves Literary Journal: a Collection of Vignettes from Across the Globe, 2017. And her articles have appeared in the Huffington Post, Naturally Savvy, Aging Bodies, PsychAlive, Story Circle Network’s HerStories and One Woman’s Day blogs, and the Memoir Network blog. One of Madeline’s essays has also appeared in the My Gutsy Story Anthology by Sonia Marsh.

Madeline also co-edited Volumes 1 and 2 of The Great American Poetry Show, a poetry anthology, and wrote the poems for two books of photography, The Emerging Goddess and. Besides having many poems published in print and online magazines, writes regularly for Naturally Savvy, and occasionally for PsychAlive, Open to Hope,and Journeys Through Grief and The Huffington Post.

Find Madeline Online:

———-Blog Tour Dates

Launch Day – June 3^rd

Madeline Sharples launches her tour of “Papa’s Shoes” with an insightful interview and giveaway at the Muffin!

June 4th @ Coffee with Lacey

The lovely Lacey reviews “Papa’s Shoes” by Madeline Sharples and shares her review with readers at Coffee with Lacey. This is a blog stop and review readers won’t want to miss!

https://coffeewithlacey.com/

June 5th @ Lisa Haselton’s Reviews and Interviews

Lisa Haselton interviews well known author and memoirist Madeline Sharples about her latest novel “Papa’s Shoes” – the story of a Polish shoemaker and his family as they settle in America. This insightful interview is one you won’t want to miss!

http://lisahaseltonsreviewsandinterviews.blogspot.com/

June 6th @ Beverley A. Baird

Beverley A. Baird shares her thoughts after reading the touching story of a Polish shoemaker and his family as they settle in America – “Papa’s Shoes” by Madeline Sharples is a book that is sure to please readers!

https://beverleyabaird.wordpress.com/

June 7th @ Linda Neas

Today’s guest author at Words from the Heart with Linda Neas is none other than well-known author and memoirist Madeline Sharples. Today, her guest post is titled “How I reinvented myself from a technical writer and editor to a creative writer – and at my

age.” Heart from Madeline and learn more about her latest novel “Papa’s Shoes”!

https://contemplativeed.blogspot.com/

June 12th @ Linda Neas

Last week, readers at Words from the Heart with Linda Neas read a guest post penned by Author Madeline Sharples and today, Linda will share her review of Madeline’s latest novel “Papa’s Shoes”. This is a blog stop you won’t want to bypass!

https://contemplativeed.blogspot.com/

June 18th @ Selling Books with Cathy Stucker

Cathy Stucker interviews Madeline Sharples at Selling Books. Readers will flock to learn more about Sharples and her latest novel “Papa’s Shoes”.

https://www.sellingbooks.com/

June 26th @ Linda Appleman Shapiro

Fellow author and memoirist Linda Appleman Shapiro shares her review of “Papa’s Shoes” by Madeline Sharples. Don’t miss Linda’s insight into this touching story of one Polish shoemaker and his family as they move to America!

http://applemanshapiro.com/category/book-reviews/

June 27th @ World of My Imagination

Nicole Pyles reviews the latest best selling novel “Papa’s Shoes” by Madeline Sharples – readers will delight to hear what Nicole thinks of this crowd pleasing story of one Polish shoemaker and his family!

https://theworldofmyimagination.blogspot.com/

June 28th @ Deal Sharing Aunt / Vicki Brinius

Vicky Brinius reviews “Papa’s Shoes” by Madeline Sharples. Find out how she feels after reading this touching story of one Polish shoemaker and his family as they settle in America.

http://dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com/

July 2nd @Author Anthony Avina

Fellow author Anthony Avina reviews “Papa’s Shoes” by Madeline Sharples – this is a touching story of one Polish shoemaker and his family as they settled in America.

https://authoranthonyavinablog.wordpress.com/

July 2nd @ Amanda Sanders

Amanda of Amanda Diaries reviews Madeline Sharples latest novel “Papa’s Shoes” – read Amanda’s review and add this lovely story to your TBR pile today!

https://amandadiaries.com/

July 4th @ Author Anthony Avina

Readers at Anthony Avina’s blog will delight with today’s guest post and author interview with Madeline Sharples – learn more about her and her latest work!

https://authoranthonyavinablog.wordpress.com/

July 5th @ Lisa Buske

Lisa Buske shares her review of “Papa’s Shoes” – the latest novel by Madeline Sharples and a touching story of one Polish shoemaker and his family as they settle in America.

https://www.lisambuske.com/

August 12th @ Kathleen Pooler’s Memoir Writer’s Journey

Readers and writers alike will want to stop by Memoir Writer’s Journey to hear from Kathleen Pooler and friend / fellow author Madeline Sharples as they discuss Madeline’s latest book “Papa’s Shoes”.

https://krpooler.com/

My MacArthur by Cindy Fazzi Review & Blog Tour

On December 2, 2018December 1, 2018 By authoranthonyavinablogIn Blog Tours, Book Events, book launch, Book Promotion, reviews2 Comments

I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.

Author Cindy Fazzi tackles one of the United States most prominent military figures and the mysterious love affair he had with a young Filipino woman in the highly acclaimed novel, “My MacArthur”. Here is the synopsis.

The Synopsis

The year is 1930. The place: Manila. Douglas MacArthur is the most powerful man in the Philippines, a United States colony. He’s fifty years old, divorced, and he falls in love at first sight with a ravishing young Filipino woman. He writes her a love note on the spot. Her name is Isabel Rosario Cooper, an aspiring movie actress. One glance at his note and she thinks of him as “my MacArthur.”

MacArthur pursues his romantic obsession even though he’s breaking numerous taboos. She reciprocates his affection because he could open doors for her financially struggling family. When MacArthur is appointed the U.S. Army chief of staff, he becomes the youngest four-star general and one of America’s most powerful men. Out of hubris, he takes Isabel with him to America without marrying her. Amid the backdrop of the Great Depression, their relationship lasts until 1934. After four years of relationship, MacArthur leaves Isabel for fear of a political scandal.

The general goes on to become the iconic hero of World War II, liberating the Philippines and rebuilding Japan, while Isabel drifts in Los Angeles unable to muster the courage to return to Manila.

The Review

As a fan of history and looking past the curtain of fame to see the true people these historical figures were, I found this story truly fascinating. A fictional story about a true love affair, the often explosive, raw and destructive affair between the famed General MacArthur and the young aspiring actress Isabel makes for a powerful and engaging read.

It truly was interesting to see the famed military leaders fascination and love for the Philippines, and the author did a wonderful job of bringing the setting to life on every page. The blend of Philippine and American cultures shone through in every chapter, and set the affair in a whole new light as the two broke taboo after taboo in both countries in order to be together.

The Verdict

This is a must read novel, and a fantastic example of historical fiction that is so well written that it could easily be reality. Giving a voice to an era and to people who have remained mysterious in their relationship with one another for decades, it was truly interesting to see the chemistry between the two, both the good and the bad. If you have a fascination with history, Filipino culture or fantastic writing overall, then you need to grab your copy of My MacArthur by Cindy Fazzi today.

Rating: 10/10

Get the Grinch with Max B&N Exclusive Plush for only $12.99 when you buy any other item on BN.com

Print Length: 285 pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

Publisher: Sand Hill Review Press

ISBN: 9781937818968

My MacArthur is now available to purchase on Amazon.com as an e-book (and print) as well as at Barnes and Noble.

About the Author

Cindy Fazzi is a Filipino-American writer and former Associated Press reporter. She has worked as a journalist in the Philippines, Taiwan, and the United States. My MacArthur, published by Sand Hill Review Press, is her literary debut. She writes romance novels under the pen name Vina Arno. Her first romance book, In His Corner, was published by Lyrical Press in 2015. Her second romance novel, Finder Keeper of My Heart, was published by Painted Hearts Publishing in 2018. Her short stories have been published in Snake Nation Review, Copperfield Review, and SN Review.

You can find Cindy at –

Check out the rest of the My MacArthur tour and all of these other incredible sites!

Find the perfect gift for everyone on your list with the Barnes & Noble Gift Guide.

— Blog Tour Dates

November 5th @ The Muffin

What goes better in the morning than a muffin? Stop by Women on Writing’s blog and read an interview with the author Cindy Fazzi and enter to win a copy of the book My MacArthur.

http://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com

November 6th @ Coffee with Lacey

Get your coffee and stop by Lacey’s blog where she share her thoughts on the book My MacArthur.

http://coffeewithlacey.wordpress.com/

November 7th @ Beverley A. Baird’s Blog

Stop by Beverley’s blog and find out what she thought about Cindy Fazzi’s book My MacArthur. This book is sure to entice historical fiction readers everywhere!

https://beverleyabaird.wordpress.com/

November 8th @ The Frugalista Mom

Stop by Rozelyn’s blog and catch her thoughts on the historical fiction book My MacArthur.

https://thefrugalistamom.com/

November 9th @ The Frozen Mind

Grab a blanket and stop by the blog The Frozen Mind and read their thoughts on the incredible historical fiction book My MacArthur.

https://thefrozenmind.com/

November 11th @ Bring on Lemons

If life hands you lemons, read a book! Come by Crystal’s blog Bring on Lemons and find out what she had to say about the book My MacArthur.

http://bringonlemons.blogspot.com/

November 13th @ Mommy Daze: Say What??

Want to know what this mom had to say about the book? Stop by Ashley’s blog and read her thoughts on the historical fiction book My MacArthur.

https://adayinthelifeofmom.com/

November 16th @ Amanda’s Diaries

Find out what Amanda had to say about Cindy Fazzi’s historical fiction book My MacArthur in her review today.

https://amandadiaries.com/

November 16th @ Chapters Through Life

Stop by Danielle’s blog where she spotlight’s Cindy Fazzi’s book My MacArthur.

https://chaptersthroughlife.blogspot.com/

November 19th @ Madeline Sharples Blog

Be sure to catch today’s post over at Madeline’s blog author Cindy Fazzi shares her tips for writing fiction about a famous person.

http://madelinesharples.com/

November 20th @ Let Us Talk of Many Things

Visit today’s blog where you can catch Cindy Fazzi’s post on overcoming prejudices against romance writers.

https://ofhistoryandkings.blogspot.com/

November 21st @ Mam’s Rants and Reviews

Stop by Shan’s blog where she shares her thoughts on the historical fiction book My MacArthur.

https://shanelliswilliams.com/

November 25th @ The World of My Imagination

Catch Nicole’s review of the book My MacArthur and find out what she had to say about this fantastic book.

http://theworldofmyimagination.blogspot.com

November 26th @ Break Even Books

Stop by the Break Even Books blog and read Cindy Fazzi’s article on the pros and cons of using a pen name.

https://breakevenbooks.com/

November 28th @ Charmed Book Haven Reviews

Visit Cayce’s blog and check out her thoughts on the book My MacArthur by Cindy Fazzi.

https://charmedbookhavenreviews.wordpress.com/

November 29th @ Memoir Writer’s Journey

Start your journey today at Kathleen’s blog Memoir Writer’s Journey where author Cindy Fazzi talks about the challenges of writing different genres.

https://krpooler.com/

November 30th @ Joyful Antidotes Blog

Want a joyful way to start your day? Stop by Joy’s blog where she reviews the incredible historical fiction book My MacArthur.

https://joyfulantidotes.com/

November 30th @ The Uncorked Librarian

Make sure you stop by Christine’s blog and read what she thinks about the book My MacArthur.

https://theuncorkedlibrarian.com

December 1st @ Charmed Book Haven Reviews

Visit Cacye’s blog again and read her interview with author Cindy Fazzi.

https://charmedbookhavenreviews.wordpress.com/

December 2nd @ Author Anthony Avina’s Blog

Start your morning out right by reading Anthony Avina’s review of the book My MacArthur.

https://atomic-temporary-124910902.wpcomstaging.com/

December 2rd @ 2 Turn the Page Book Reviews

Visit Renee’s blog when she reviews Cindy Fazzi’s book My MacArthur and interviews the author.

https://2turnthepagebookreviews.blogspot.com/

Book Excerpt:

Douglas MacArthur. Her pulse quickened as she read the name. His neat handwriting exuded confidence, but just the same, his note struck her as an anomaly, a mistake. The white man who acted as his messenger stood next to her at the bar.

Men of all ages filled the Olympic Boxing Club, waiting for the fight to begin. Filipinos, Americans, and Europeans caroused and mingled freely here, unlike the Elks or the Army and Navy Club, which banned Filipinos. The foreigners sat at the tables, drank Cerveza San Miguel, and smoked cigars. The Filipinos stood at the cheap section of the club, jostled and bet among themselves.

“I’m Captain Ed Marsh, by the way.” The messenger extended his hand.

An American officer in civilian clothes. It was Saturday night, after all.

“A pleasure to meet you, sir.” She shook his hand, but withheld her name.

Isabel Rosario Cooper came to the club in search of her brother, or rather his car. She needed Ben to drive her to the Manila Carnival.

Women didn’t come here because they didn’t watch boxing, so when she stepped inside the club, she’d grabbed everyone’s attention without trying. The men had erupted in whistles and cheers. The crowd had parted as she crossed the room. Just the way she liked it. She was born to part crowds—to turn heads. For an aspiring actress, every place was a stage.

Who knew MacArthur sat amid the boisterous horde? She read the note again. I can’t help but notice your gracious presence. I would love it if you can favor me with your company. Please join me for dinner at The Grand.

This time, the words made sense. Not a blunder on his part or a misinterpretation on hers. The message hit her like a jackpot—bigger than the Carnival Queen title that her best friend, Nenita, aimed for. He was the most important man in the Philippine Islands. He could open doors for her and her family.

She stopped herself from blurting out a yes! She couldn’t afford to give herself away. Nothing compelled a man to pursue a woman more than her lack of interest.

“Who’s Douglas MacArthur?” She stood with the note in one hand and her silk purse in the other hand. Chin up and chest out, despite the sweat underneath her lace blouse. Her skirt squeezed her waist and constricted her breathing, but she’d worn it because it displayed her figure. The stifling humidity now made her regret her choice. Even the garter belt and stockings itched in such heat.

“You’ve never heard of Douglas MacArthur?” His eyes widened.

She shook her head. A saxophone wailed, distracting them both. They turned toward the elevated boxing ring—empty. Below it, a band warmed up.

Captain Marsh offered her a pack of Lucky Strike. “Care for a cigarette?”

“Why, thank you.” She tucked her purse under her armpit and took one stick, which he lit with a lighter. They stood side by side, watching the band.

“Do you see the gentleman in the middle?” He pointed at a table not far from the band. “White suit. Gray-striped tie. Do you see him?”

“Yes.”

“That is Douglas MacArthur.”

The man stared at her while smoking a long-stemmed pipe, the bowl shaped like a corncob. He didn’t smile. The band played a jazz-style rendition of a Filipino folk song. The audience, packed ten deep, hooted and screamed for the fight to begin, but MacArthur didn’t even blink.

She glanced at his note again before inserting it in her purse. “This is nice. But I don’t know him.”

“It’s unbelievable. You really don’t know him?”

She shook her head and shifted her weight to one hip.

“He’s the Big Cheese!”

She arched her eyebrow.

“Major General MacArthur is the most powerful American not just in the Philippines, but in Asia.”

She took a drag on her cigarette. “I know what big cheese means, thank you.”

MacArthur stood out in his expensive suit, slicked-back hair, and intimidating pipe, but he was as old as her father, if not older. His title was commander of the U.S. Army’s Philippine Division, though everyone treated him like a king.

He stared with a cool expression, pretending to be uninterested. The man was an actor. Perhaps they were not too different.

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