First of all...
Showing posts with label #booktour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #booktour. Show all posts

Saturday, May 8, 2021

#TheSundayPost The Second Sunday in May!

 


The Sunday Post is a weekly meme hosted here @ Caffeinated Reviewer. It’s a chance to share news~ A post to recap the past week on your blog and showcase books and things we have received. Share news about what is coming up on our blog for the week ahead.  See rules here: Sunday Post Meme

Happy Mother's Day to anyone celebrating.  Virtual hugs to anyone who is sad on this day unable to talk, or be with someone they love or dealing with complicated mother/child relationships.  

At my house, this Sunday is my oldest son's bday so we are celebrating his day today. Later on in the day, I am fortunate that I can call my mother.

This week I had my second Pfizer shot, and with that shot, everyone in the house has had all their vaccine doses and on the 18th we will reach fully vaccinated status. Hooray! 

In celebration of getting that second shot, I decided to visit a romance new and used bookstore near me.  They have online ordering so check out their website: Love's Sweet Arrow

Here is the picture of my book haul! 

Now all I need is the weather here to perk up so I can sit outside and read! 

Tomorrow on the blog I am a Blog Tour host for a new book by Dahlia Donovan called Pierced Peony.  It's the second installment in her Mott's Cold Case Mystery series.  Make sure to check it out! There's a Giveaway!!!





How was your week? Did you read, watch, or listen to anything good?  I hope you are doing well! 



Tuesday, April 20, 2021

Lark and the Loon, by Rhiannon Gelston- A Virtual Book Tour

I’m delighted to be participating in author Rhiannon Gelston’s blog tour for her latest release, LARK AND THE LOON

I was drawn to participate in this virtual book blog tour because of this cover! I love the rainbow of color in the background along with the child in profile under a tree. This cover says to me the contents of this book will be filled with the sorts of adventures that can only happen when you are a kid.

If I had to compare this book to another book I would say that Lark's journey reminded me of The Little Prince. A fantastical adventure with unusual companions by a boy who is 10.

I found that I appreciated the fanciful telling of the author's own story as a mother, as I think it made space for telling hard, frightening times with joy and love.

◊ Genre: Memoir with a Twist
◊ Publisher: WiDo Publishing (July 17, 2020)
◊ Print & eBooks
◊ Paperback: 284 pages
◊ ISBN-10: 1947966251
◊ ISBN-13: 978-1947966253

Lark and the Loon follows the adventures of a tentative boy named Lark, as he is catapulted out of all that he knows, into a courageous journey beyond his wildest imagination. 

Upon receiving a special gift from his Gramps, Lark embarks on a reflective journey of self-discovery as the innovative story weaves the true-life memoir of his mother (the author) in with a fantastical journey. With some special new-found friends, Lark travels back and forth from a symbolic tree to his mother’s true memories of life and death moments, and simple moments, found everywhere from wild Africa to their very own living room. Lark and his friends must ascend this tree and gain the important life lessons offered along the way if they ever hope to find their way out. Within this journey, Lark finds these lessons, and ultimately himself, in the space between imagination and truth in this wild tale.  

The story explores friendships, philosophies, and everyday challenges and joys, both from a child's perspective and from a parent's perspective. This memoir with a twist results in a coming-of-age story that ultimately leads to a new understanding of self, others, and the world that surrounds us.


LARK AND THE LOON
is available at AMAZONBarnes & Noble * WiDo Publishing. Also, be sure to add it to your TBR List on Goodreads.

Meet the Author


RHIANNON GELSTON
loves to lose herself in all things creative. She enjoys writing, painting, live music, traveling, sports, being outdoors, exploring, playing, spirituality, and energy work. She has a BA in English and an MS in Occupational Therapy with a pediatric focus. Rhiannon just had her first novel published. It is a memoir with a twist called, LARK AND THE LOON, available wherever books are sold.

Rhiannon grew up on Spa Creek in downtown Annapolis. Home for Rhiannon will always be the sound of the halyards hitting the masts on a breezy day, a pile of crabs saturated in Old Bay, raft-ups with friends as kids cannonball off of the stern, and time with family and friends, in, on, and around the Chesapeake Bay.

She lives in Annapolis with her husband, their five lovely and lively children, and their black lab, McNasby.

Connect with Rhiannon on Facebook and Instagram.

Be sure to enter the tour wide giveaway. It ends May 3. The grand prize is a $25 Amazon Gift Card and an eBook of LARK AND THE LOON. The second-place winner has to be a US resident as the gift is a signed copy of LARK THE LOON. The third-place prize is an eBook that two winners will receive. If the Rafflecopter widget doesn’t work, you can still enter by clicking HERE.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thanks for stopping by today. Doesn’t this sound like an intriguing memoir?

Tuesday, October 27, 2020

Festive Mayhem Book Blast Giveaway!


If you’re looking for a good mystery with a little holiday twist, look no further. Today I’m participating in the FESTIVE MAYHEM Book Blast featuring 10 talented authors with stories of mystery, crime, and suspense with a holiday flair. Read on for an excerpt from one of the short stories and my review. 

◊ Genre: MysteryAnthologies
◊ Publisher: Marla Bradeen (October 26,2020)
◊ eBooks
◊ File Size: 1232 KB
◊ Print Length: 159 Pages

◊ ASIN: BO8F3HLH67

 

Ten crime writers of color have teamed up to offer you the gift of escape this holiday season. From Christmas crime capers to Thanksgiving thrillers, historical hard-boiled to contemporary cozies, mystery fans of all genres will find something to love in this limited-time collection of exclusive, never-before-published seasonal short stories.

 

What you’ll find inside:
• “The New Year’s Hex” by Carolyn Marie Wilkins. Carrie McFarland finds her New Year’s plans derailed when a psychic vision pulls the 1920s African American amateur sleuth into someone’s evil scheme.
• “Pipe Dreams” by S.G. Wong. In this hard-boiled Crescent City short story, infatuation, and passion drive Minnie Chen straight into danger as she tries to best the City’s most glamorous private detective in a reimagined 1930s-era Chinese Los Angeles. (see the excerpt below)
• “A Christmas Tip” by Elizabeth Wilkerson. A surprise Christmas bonus becomes too tempting for Philadelphia nursing assistant Brianna Byers to resist—even if accepting requires some skillful skirting of the law.
• “The Stranger in the House” by Stella Oni. This London House Mystery prequel stars Elizabeth Ojo, a Nigerian housekeeper at a posh guest house, who finds her Christmas intersecting with that of a mysterious resident in trouble.
• “What Lies Inside” by Kia Dennis. A tormented university professor falls deeper and deeper into a destructive obsession in this harrowing tale of love and longing.
• “A Pub, Bed & Breakfast & A Dead Body” by Forest Issac Jones. A dark past becomes the deadly present when North Carolina police detective Ike Coates and his intrepid young partner are tasked with determining the cause of a suspicious death.
• “A Deadly First” by Delia C. Pitts. Thanksgiving takes a fatal turn when New York private eye SJ Rook finds himself thrust into his first murder case in this darkly atmospheric tale of noir.
• “The Holiday Murder Mélange” by Myra Jolivet. This Sarah Doucette Jean-Louis short story follows the Creole P.I. around the San Francisco Bay Area on her quest to figure out who killed a man outside of her office.
• “Those Holiday Blues” by Jennifer J. Chow. Jasmine, aka “Jazz,” can’t escape the tragic past when an old boyfriend asks to meet on the anniversary of his mother’s death.
• “Holiday Holdup” by Paige Sleuth. In this Cozy Cat Caper Mystery Short, Imogene Little gets tangled up in a Christmas Eve bank robbery orchestrated by none other than Santa Claus himself.

 


This anthology is only available for a short time, so grab it now before it’s gone. It would be criminal to miss it!

My Review:

These writers decided to come together and create this short story collection in spring at the start of the pandemic and I am so glad that they had the foresight to put this together.  All the mysteries are brand-new and holiday-themed, perfect to read here and there as nighttime starts earlier and earlier. The rating system of cozy, cold, or chilling was very handy and allowed me to choose stories to match my mood or enhance my mood.  I really appreciated that at the end of each story I could click on the author's website and see their other books and upcoming releases. 

Below you will find an excerpt from Pipe Dreams: A Crescent City Short Story by S.G. Wong. Pipe Dreams was one of my favorite stories in this because that strong 1930's noir setting is so distinct and such a departure from the mysteries I usually read. The story was compelling and I need to know more about Minnie.


I think this book is a perfect way to transition from the spooky season to the holiday season!

FESTIVE MAYHEM is available at the following sites:

AMAZON US   *   AMAZON UK   *   AMAZON CA   *

 AMAZON AU * BARNES & NOBLE  *  GOODREADS   *   KOBO *

APPLE BOOKS * GOOGLE PLAY * SMASHWORDS

 

About the Authors

 

FESTIVE MAYHEM features a collection of never-before-published short stories authored by 10 mystery, crime, and suspense writers of color: 

Carolyn Marie Wilkinshttps://www.carolynwilkins.com/
S.G. Wonghttps://sgwong.com/
Elizabeth Wilkersonhttp://elizabethwilkerson.com/
Stella Onihttps://stellaonithewriter.com
Kia Dennishttp://www.kiadennis.com/ 
Forest Issac Joneshttp://www.forestissacjones.com/
Delia C. Pittshttps://www.deliapitts.com/
Myra Jolivethttps://myrajolivet.com/
Jennifer J. Chowhttp://jenniferjchow.com/
Paige Sleuthhttp://www.marlabradeen.com/ps/

 

Be sure to enter the giveaway below. If the widget doesn’t work, just click HERE to enter. You can read more about this fascinating book by visiting the other stops on the Book Blast.

 

Thanks for stopping by today. Don’t you just love a good mystery with a holiday theme?

Here is an excerpt of one of the stories: Pipe Dreams: A Crescent City Short Story 

By S.G. Wong


AS SHE WATCHED LOLA Starke cross the floor of the mah-jongg parlour, Minnie supposed she oughta be grateful even if it was late and she was tired. This was research after all and Starke was the only gumshoe she knew personally, if only tangentially. Though Minnie was certain she couldn’t name a more unlikely looking shamus this end of the west coast. Hells, maybe even in the entire country. Weren’t private dicks supposed to be a seedy lot? Failed coppers unable to stay off the sauce? Big men with crooked noses and uncertain teeth, and the fluid scruples to match?


Minnie thought of her research project so far. She couldn’t dig up a single instance that contradicted these preconceptions—except for the striking woman in a column of dark green silk she was now watching from the corner of her eye. Gods, Starke sure knew how to wear a dress. It helped that the get-up in question likely cost more dough than Minnie made in a month, even with the generous salary she got working for her uncle. Must be nice to be a trust fund baby.


Pretending to wipe down a few final ashtrays behind the bar, Minnie watched as Starke bade Uncle Sammy a good night at the doors of his office and smoothly glided through the maze of tables toward the doors. Heads popped up in her wake like a gods-damned gopher convention. What was it about Starke, Minnie marvelled. Pretty girls were a dime a dozen in Crescent City and beautiful ones walked down every street. And yet.


Not a single person at the tables tonight could resist staring after her. Sure, Starke was tall. What gwai wasn’t, compared to most Chinese? It’s not like there weren’t plenty of foreigners in the City, though. They came when the Chinese staked their claim during the 1820s gold rush, and either clawed their own riches from the earth or died trying. A hundred years and change later, foreigners were still dazzled by the City’s gilded reputation. Tourists, business people, politicians, artists—they all flocked here to steal a little of the glamour the film studios made such good cabbage selling. What made Starke so damned special?


Minnie shook herself. Eyes on the prize, Chen. She had a shamus to tail.


Scurrying out the back and into the shadowed alleyway, she made for her motorized scooter, hidden behind a stack of wooden pallets near the door. Minnie slammed on her helmet, fiddled with the straps beneath her chin as she pushed the moto down the alley toward the front of the mah-jongg parlour. As she neared the street proper, she slowed until she could peek around the corner of the building.


Stop by the other blogs on this tour!  

Monday, Oct. 26 – Just Jemi – Review
Rockin’ Book Reviews – Feature
Nesie’s Place – Excerpt
Writer’s Gambit – Review & Feature


Tuesday, Oct. 27 – First of All – Review & Excerpt
CelticLady’s Reviews – Feature
Bookish Rantings – Excerpt


Wednesday, Oct. 28 – I Found This Great Book – Review & Excerpt
Book Reviews by Pat Garcia – Review
Thoughts in Progress – Excerpt
Author Deborah A. Bailey – Excerpt

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Tuesday, April 23, 2013

No Alternative by William Dickerson Book Review and Giveaway!

I stumbled across the No Alternative Blog Tour on Facebook. I have not reviewed a book for quite sometime and I have fond memories of 1994, so I asked to be part of the book tour.

 Coming into the story with no preconceived ideas, only knowing that Kurt Cobain's suicide would feature prominently, I was curious and hesitant. Suicide is such an enormously verboten topic, I don't know that many of us like to poke a stick at it, much less read about it. So I took a deep breath and dove into the story and read and waited for the inevitable shoe to drop. And it did, and with the darkness of that death, came awakening.

No Alternative;, is rooted in the depression and disassociation felt by all its characters and it is through the inevitable suicide of one, that everyone around that character is transformed and infused with life.

William Dickerson's story begins in a documentary style.  A staccato sharing of this time, the 1990s and this music, grunge. Throughout the book we are reminded of what was: the 1980s, what is: 1994 and what will be: 2012 and beyond.  This  time shifting throughout the book by our omniscient  narrator was a writing technique that I felt worked and I greatly enjoyed. 

The protagonist of No Alternative is Thomas Harrison and intelligent and average suburban 17 year-old who idolized Kurt Cobain. The book begins several months after Kurt Cobain's suicide, after a time of mourning, Thomas is ready to submerge himself in music and decides to start a band. The story moves forward from there and we are introduced to Thomas's younger sister Bridget, his parents and his band mates.  Each character is isolated from others, living behind the mask of what they think the world would prefer them to be.  It is a pleasure to read how those barriers breakdown and see these people washed clean of their perceptions.

 Below you can find an excerpt from the book. I am thrilled that the excerpt provided to me focuses on Thomas's sister Bridget. Bridget is compelling, Bridge is a force and as I read on through the book, I wanted more Bridget, I wanted to pen Mr. Dickerson quick note asking him to start work on a follow-up novel of Bridget.Take a moment, read the except, and run over to Amazon and get this book. You'll thank me.
 
Bridget is parked in art class, surrounded by her classmates at their individual easels. Ms. Sheehan, her skinny, exceedingly longhaired, Earth-mother of a teacher, makes her rounds from student to student. She stops behind Bridget, eyeballing her canvas. While others concentrate on drawing bowls of luscious fruit, glistening and ripe, Bridget touches up an image of fruit, apples and such, impaled on several razor-sharp meat hooks. Ms. Sheehan surveys the depiction with interest, “Do you think you’ll ever actually follow the assignment, Bridget?” Bridget adds some luster to those metallic hooks, “Not likely.”“I do kind of like it.”“It needs more blood,” Bridget observes.“Of course.”Sheehan shakes her head, but has to smile, as she continues along to another student. Bridget places her pencils down, closing her eyes, and exhales. Bridget exhales for the therapeutic value of the act.Bridget has been prescribed anti-depressant medications, many different medications, a bounty of medications, medications as plentiful as Baskin & Robbins ice cream flavors, medications in all shapes and colors, in colors much more numerous than the colors of the rainbow, medications in quantities nearly equal to the many languages of the human race, a tower of Babel of medications and she has been on this laundry list of medications since she was eight years old. What childhood malady could have justified this salad bar of meds being visited on Bridget? Sure, a casual observer with an eye for analysis might have detected her lack of motivation on the soccer field at an early age, like the way she’d shy away from the ball whenever it was kicked anywhere near her, or noticed her brittle temper, like the time she smashed all the windows on the garage door with a hockey stick. An ever-increasing percentage of the medical community views these childhood failures as justification for testing new wonder drugs on innocent children. Bridget suffers much, there’s no doubt about it and most of all from a debilitating anxiety. The bone-chilling anxiety that accompanies her while being forced to give classroom presentations. The gastrointestinal stomach ailments that she swears are there, but no doctor can officially confirm. The anxiety of her compulsive drawing and erasing, drawing and erasing. Bridget suffers.Just breath. In. And then out. The phenomenon of syncing one’s breathing with another’s is seldom discussed, but is a considerable fear held among the anxiety-ridden. It’s something Bridget obsesses over: the idea of someone other than herself controlling her breathing. It is simultaneously smothering and freeing. During an anxiety attack, breathing becomes front and center, you can actually convince yourself to stop breathing if you’re anxious enough. Or so you think. But it’s what you think that matters. It matters enough to actually cause you physical pain and discomfort. And that’s a problem. Inevitably, nobody thinks you’re crazier than you think you are.In an attempt to combat her anxiety while giving a presentation on earthquake preparedness – an endeavor not worth the chalk when you live in the northeastern quadrant of the country, but an assignment is an assignment, and who knows what part of the country one will abscond to when free to abscond – Bridget focused on her classmates around her. She attempted to picture them in their underwear, a ridiculous cliché, but one that had worked for her in the past. It didn’t work this time. She couldn’t picture anything. No boxers, no panties, no edible thongs, no pierced labia or Prince Alberts; just her breathing – And the sound of other people breathing. Bridget became deaf to her own rhythm as her classmates began breathing in the same tempo. At least that’s what she thought was happening. In actuality, it was Amanda Welsh, and only Amanda Welsh, overweight by acceptable Westchester standards, with dimples the size of pomegranate seeds and the crease of her belly pinching the plaid of her uniform with every exhale. Her breathing eclipsed that of her peers, thunderous sound waves created at a distinctly lower frequency and emitted from the inner depths of her flesh. She was like a bag of bagpipes squeezing itself.Bridget could hear nothing but her breathing; in fact, she honed in on it, on the wheeze of air passing through a crowded windpipe.Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.Like the equalizing knob on her stereo, Bridget’s brain shut off the treble and turned up the bass, louder, louder, louder; all the way to the max. Every word out of her mouth was garbled, as if she was speaking underwater. The only frequencies allowed into her ear canals were those from the bagpipes. As a result, she adjusted her breathing to mimic those of the bagpipes, because if she didn’t begin and end her breath at the precise moment the bagpipes did, she would cease breathing. And, of course, die. The bagpipes were her assisted breathing machine: at this very moment, standing before her class, every movement, every word, every breath, being judged by her peers, her teacher, the loiterers in the hallway passing by, and her breathing was regulated by a bag of human bagpipes. She was a stock car stuck in its groove, unable to change lanes. Then she stopped. Breathing.Either the overweight girl she was listening to stopped breathing, or Bridget mercifully broke free of her often unforgiving burden. Either way, the end result was the same: Bridget’s knees buckled, her legs collapsing underneath her, and the side of her head smashed into the corner of her teacher’s steel desk. She was knocked instantly into blissful unconsciousness. She likes this moment the best.