#Blog Tour #Memoirs of aKarate Fighter by Ralph Robb #Guest post by Ralph Robb @rararesources31/3/2021
 Thank you to Rachel from Rachel's Random resources for inviting me to participate in the blog tour for Memoirs of a Karate Fighter and thank you to Ralph Robb, the author of the book, for his guest post!  Memoirs of a Karate Fighter Novelist and former karate champion Ralph Robb recounts his experiences at one of Europe’s toughest dojos and provides an insight into the philosophy and training methods of a club which produced national, European and world titleholders. In a hard-hitting story, Ralph tells of the fights on and off the mat; his experiences as one of a very few black residents in an area in which racist members of the National Front were very active; and the tragic descent into mental illness and premature death of the training partner who was also his best friend. Purchase Links UK / US  GUEST POST BY RALPH ROBB MEMOIRS OF A KARATE FIGHTER At the time of writing this book, I had to do a lot of soul searching relating to violence in the street and how much of this topic I was to include in the book. I knew the comments it would receive, comments such as ‘the members of the YMCA were no better than the thugs they were fighting in the streets.’ While I wanted to recount how things were and the fights that happened outside the club, I didn’t want to glamorize the violence or make out that I was training with a bunch of saints. I suppose it is all about context and in many cases, this varied as much as an individual’s attitude to violence. One of the main reasons why I started karate in the first place was that I quickly learned that in the poorer sectors of the city, there was a constant threat of violence. Like it or not I had to live in that reality. It wasn’t just the treat of racial violence such the type people like Enoch Powell and members of the National Front propagated. But in the 1970 football hooliganism regularly shut down the town center as Wolves supporters clashed with away team fans and gangs of skinheads. As worrying as this was, this threat of violence was mainly brought into the community from the outside and wasn’t the threat I encountered on a day-to-day basis. This came in the form of what I considered, domestic violence. Not the spousal type we all know about, but violence committed by local (domestic) criminality. Gangs, theft, fraud, molestation, breaking and entry etc, etc. Let me give you an example, at school we played an across town rival at football. After the match the police had to be called to escort us out of that area, as crowds of armed pupils were accumulated along the path, we would have to take to get home. This is just one example of many of the silly little turf wars that took place daily. In our minds we’d be righting a wrong for incidents such as fraudsters taking money from your elderly mother. Reporting it to the police was often a waste of time and the quickest way to retrieve the funds would be direct intervention. Much of the incidents that involved members of the YMCA Karate club fell into this category.  Book Excerpt As I went back to my car thoughts of visiting Clinton on the way home meant that I had not taken much notice of the raised voices that came from somewhere beyond my peripheral vision. “Hey! I’m talking to you, you black bastard!” someone shouted. I finished unlocking the car door before I pivoted around to see four young guys on the other side of the car park. The skinhead I had first seen on that day in the lift shortly after I had moved into the flat was amongst them. He had allowed his hair to grow a little longer but other than that he had not changed much. He led the other three toward me. At his shoulder was a man who was slightly larger, his pudgy face was contorted with hate. Maybe they had waited this long because somewhere in their befuddled minds they had figured that now I was no longer living in the flat there was less chance of any acts of retaliation from me. The car door was unlocked and I had the option of jumping in and driving away but my running away days were long over.  Author Bio Ralph Robb was born and raised in the industrial town of Wolverhampton, England and now lives in Ontario Canada with his wife, cat and dog. A proud father of four, Robb works as an engineering technician and loves rugby, martial arts and a good book. His world is balanced by quality TV, global events, great outdoors and of course his grand-daughter. Social Media Links Facebook: www.facebook.com/RalphRobbBooks Twitter: @RalphSRobb Webpage: www.ralphrobb.com Thank you to Ralph Robb for his guest post!  #Book Blitz #The Anti Relationship Year by Katie Wismer #New Adult #Romance @Xpresso Book Tours30/3/2021
The Anti-Relationship Year
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “They’re seniors at Portland State,” Kayleigh hissed under her breath as the bouncer glanced at their IDs and ushered them inside. Miller wiggled his eyebrows as the three of them hurried through the doors. The bar was lively, but not as crowded as Jo had expected. The stage was just a small platform in the back corner with a few lights pointed in its direction. Wires and musical instruments were strewn about, but none of the band members had surfaced yet. “I’ve never heard of them,” Jo admitted. “They’re about to make it big,” Kayleigh insisted, raising onto her tiptoes to get a look at the line out the windows. “I can’t see Addie or Liv anymore.” She turned to Miller. “What are your roommates’ names again?” Miller frowned and shrugged. Jo stifled a snort. At least it wasn’t just her. “You don’t know any of their names?” Kayleigh demanded. Miller narrowed his eyes, considering this. “Pretty sure one of them is Alan—big guy with the goofy hair? And one of them might be Gatsby. Or maybe he just likes The Great Gatsby…” He shook his head. “Nah, he doesn’t seem like the kind to read. I think it’s his name.” Kayleigh threw her hands up, her gaze now moving on to survey the rest of the crowd—a few people were wearing T-shirts with the name UNITED FATES scrawled across the front, but not many. She jutted her chin toward the bar and elbowed Jo in the ribs. “You should get the drinks. You look the most twenty-one of the three of us.” Jo shot an uneasy glance toward the bar and adjusted the straps of her tank top. She already had the wristband from the front door. The hard part was over. She forced a smile and flipped her hair over her shoulders. She’d curled it tonight, and the tinted lights overhead were making it look more wine-colored than its usual copper shade. “I’ll be right back.” The bartender did a quick once-over as she approached. “What can I get you?” His hair was nearly as red as Johanna’s was, complete with a matching mustache. He also looked to be barely twenty-one himself. “Three beers.” Her gaze swept the bar, and she pointed to a fish-shaped tap handle. “That one.” She had no idea if that one was any good, but the bartender turned away wordlessly and grabbed three glasses. “Those all for you?” A man slid into the chair on Johanna’s left. The first thing she noticed was the tattoos. He braced an arm on the bar, revealing a sleeve all the way from his wrist to his shoulder beneath his white T-shirt. All of the images and words blurred seamlessly together, the black ink stark against his pale skin. A silver coin on a long chain dangled from his neck as he leaned forward. The second thing she noticed was how inky and gelled his hair was, styled to stand up just-so in the front. He must have spent at least half as long as she had in front of the mirror tonight. The final thing she noticed was the way his eyes lingered on her body. He found her face eventually, but it was a steep climb to get there. He started at her legs, then gradually made it to her hips, her waist, her chest, and then, finally, her eyes. He wasn’t even being subtle about it. He wanted her to see him looking at her. From what she could tell, he had a nice body, too. But she definitely wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of watching her check him out. “I don’t have NPS tattooed on my lip for nothing,” she said as the bartender returned and slid the beers across the counter to her. “NPS?” asked the mystery guy. She quirked an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. “No pussy shit.”
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by:  Thank you to Rachel from rachel's Random Resources for inviting me to participate in the Publication Day for the second instalment in Liz Davies's Ticklemore series. Happy Publication Day to the Ticklemore Tattler!  The Ticklemore Tattler Sometimes you have to write your own future… The life of former journalist Juliette Seymour has been quiet and unassuming. Up until now, she’s been concentrating on running the local newspaper and raising her daughter. But all that is about to change when Juliette is informed that the Ticklemore Tattler is to fold and that she’ll be out of a job. She begins to wonder whether she can buy the newspaper and try to make a go of it herself. Aware that she needs some advice she contacts Oliver Pascoe, little knowing that when her old colleague re-enters her life, his help isn’t the only thing she wants him for! As she begins to fall in love, however, what she doesn’t realise is that Oliver has something he’s keeping from her. A gorgeously uplifting story, perfect for fans of Holly Hepburn, Heidi Swain, and Isabelle Broom. Purchase Link - mybook.to/TicklemoreTattler My thoughts: It was such a pleasure to come back to the wonderful village of Ticklemore and find out how the characters from Liz Davies's The Ticklemore Toy Shop are getting on with their life. This book tells the story of inimitable Julliette Seymore, The Ticklemore Tattler one and only journalist/ photographer/ reporter /editor-in-chief and her fight for the newspaper she couldn't imagine her life without. Of course, the Ticklemore community is going to rally behind her and pull all the stops to help her save this important part of the village history and present life. The characters Liz creates are so well-written: we get to know everything about Juliette's life, her likes and dislikes, her motivations, what made her the person she is now, her thoughts and her feelings. Juliette gave up the hectic life of a London political reporter, once she gotpregnant and came back to her home village to give birth to and raise her daughter. Now that Brooke has left the nest, Juliette may be feeling a bit lonely, but she has her paper to keep her busy. Until the owner gives her the dreadful news. He is going to close the newspaper that has been struggling to break even for years and Juliette needs to start looking for anew job elsewhere. Juliette asks her former colleague, Oliver Pascoe to give her some ideas on how she can save the paper. With both of them free and unattached and quite similar in their atttudes and values, perhaps, a bit of romance is on the horizon? I loved everything about the setting ( I hope Liz continues adding more books to the series), but what I appreciated the most about this book was the choice to focus on the protagonists in the age category that doesn't getmuch attention: both Juliette and Oliver are in their early fifties, but they need love, respect, understanding, support, and romance in their lives as much as anybody else. Fans of Liz Davies are going tobe delighted with this heartwarming story and I am wishing the book all the success it deserves! Thank you to Rachel from Rachel's Random Resources and the author for the complimentary copy. All opnions are my own and were not influenced in any way. Author Bio Liz Davies writes feel-good, light-hearted stories with a hefty dose of romance, a smattering of humour, and a great deal of love. She’s married to her best friend, has one grown-up daughter, and when she isn’t scribbling away in the notepad she carries with her everywhere (just in case inspiration strikes), you’ll find her searching for that perfect pair of shoes. She loves to cook but isn’t very good at it, and loves to eat - she’s much better at that! Liz also enjoys walking (preferably on the flat), cycling (also on the flat), and lots of sitting around in the garden on warm, sunny days. She currently lives with her family in Wales, but would ideally love to buy a camper van and travel the world in it. Website: https://lizdaviesauthor.wixsite.com/home Social Media Links – Twitter https://twitter.com/lizdaviesauthor Facebook: fb.me/LizDaviesAuthor1  Thank you for reading the post! Have a wonderful day!
If you would like to find out what other bloggers thought of the book, here is the list of blogs, participating in this book blitz: @wendyreadsbooks on Instagram The Eclectic Review Herding Cats Two ladies and a book Jolenes Book Corner Book Escapes with BabsW67 ReadingGirlReviews Books, Life and Everything donnasbookblog Victoria Wilks Writes Phannie the ginger bookworm Being Anne My Bookish Bliss School_librarian_loves_books Little Miss Book Lover 87 Tizi’s Book Review B for bookreview Splashes Into Books Vickys_bookish_life mrsljgibbs What Irin Reads Damsel In The Bookland Books Teacup and Reviews Dash Fan Book Reviews Between the Pages Book Club Lisa's Reading Eatwell2015 Gina Rae Mitchell Satisfaction for Insatiable Readers Lucy Mitchell Author Blog Bookish Jottings Carole's Book Corner Jazzy Book Reviews
The Truth About Princesses and Dukes
-- EXCERPT: “You should not be here.” The princess raised her upturned nose and sniffed. Rupert may as well have been an unpleasant scent wafting from a cow-filled pasture. “And you should not be murdered.” She fixed her eyes on him. Unlike her demeanor, which was cold, as if she’d been raised by glaciers and polar bears, her eyes were a warm honey color. Something in Rupert’s heart clenched, but he shook the emotion away. In her letters, she’d been warm and playful, but now when he was speaking with her, her demeanor was frosty. His very presence repulsed her, and his throat tightened. He was not going to muse about her undeniable beauty. He was absolutely not going to ponder her golden skin, her large dark eyes or her upturned nose. He was not going to think about her curly dark hair, and he certainly was not going to ponder the glossiness of her strands. He had the definite sense that touching her hair would be wonderful indeed. But Rupert was not going to think about that. She was a princess, a duchess, and worse—his cousin’s wife. It didn’t matter how curved her waist was, how alluring her long delicate neck was, how intriguing her collarbone and sloped shoulders. He forced himself not to gaze at the ruby pendant that hung from her neck. Thinking about her ruby pendant might draw his attention to her beautiful face, or worse, it might draw his attention to her deliciously curved bosom. That generous slope was most intriguing. But Rupert wasn’t going to think of her breasts, and he wasn’t going to ponder their shape, and he certainly wasn’t going to muse about what they might feel like in his hands. He wasn’t going to imagine trailing kisses to her waist, and he wasn’t going to imagine stroking her flat belly. He absolutely was not going to imagine any of her lower region, even though her legs were long, and even though they might feel quite good wrapped around him. No, Rupert wasn’t going to think of those things, no matter how much his heart hammered, and no matter how appealing her jasmine and violet scent was. He was going to stop her from being murdered. “Look,” Rupert said hastily, “I know this sounds mad.” “Mad?” She huffed. “Even asylum dwellers would find it challenging to say something of equal absurdity.” “I know,” Rupert said. “I know. But it’s—er—true. Absolutely true.” For a moment the princess hesitated. She had to believe him. She’d spent the day married to his cousin—that might be sufficient reason to believe. “Why are you saying this?” she asked finally. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He glanced at the window. “Or more accurately, I don’t want to see you get flung from the balcony, and I don’t want to hear my cousin tell others that you slipped in an unfamiliar environment.” Her face paled. “He wouldn’t do that.” “He said he would do that this very afternoon.” 
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When a Cowboy Loves a Woman
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Everything hurts, thought Elle Brooks as she sank lower in the bathtub. Her back and shoulders ached from carrying bales of hay and brushing the horses that morning at the Heaven Can Wait Horse Rescue, where she volunteered. Although she preferred the physical labor over the headache she got from spending the afternoon with her financial advisor, going over the trust and through her finances. Between his company and his considerable life insurance policy, her beloved Ryan had left her with a substantial amount of money. But she’d give it all away for one more day with him. She pushed a bubbly pile of suds across the spacious garden bathtub as the final strains of one of her favorite Pink songs faded in her ears. Usually the pop star’s music could energize her, but tonight she felt more like a sinking stone than any kind of rock star. With a sigh, she pushed the drain release with her toe and pulled the earbuds from her ears. That’s when she heard the sirens. Hair raised on the nape of her neck, and a chill that had nothing to do with the cooling bathwater raced up her spine. She slammed her eyes shut against the onslaught of memories. It had been over a year since Ryan died, but the images of the ambulance’s throbbing lights and the mournful sounds of the sirens were as vivid as if it had happened the day before. She caught the first whiff of smoke as she heard the fire trucks pull up in front of her house. Water sloshed over the side as she stumbled to get out of the tub. Grabbing a towel, she scarcely had time to run it over her body before she heard the slam of her front door and raised voices. Reaching for her pajamas, she pulled on the cotton shorts and wrenched the tank top over her head. Move, her brain screamed. Get out. The fabric clung to her damp skin as she snatched up her short robe and raced out of the bathroom. From the landing, she could see a flurry of men in yellow coats dragging a gray hose across the Italian marble of her foyer toward her kitchen. She choked on the acrid smoke filling the air. There were no blazing flames, but the smoke scorched her throat, and she blinked against the sting of it to her eyes. An older fireman caught sight of her. “You need to get out of the house, ma’am.” Panic gripped her as she wildly looked around at the chaos invading her home. Then her gaze caught and held on the familiar eyes of the tall cowboy who’d just stepped into view. He was dressed in jeans and boots and a black Stetson hat, and the sight of his broad shoulders filling the doorway somehow grounded her. She didn’t really know him—she’d briefly met him a few weeks ago. But that one time had shown his ability to stay calm and steady in a crisis situation. His name was Brody—Doctor Brody Tate. He was her best friend Bryn’s veterinarian. But why was a veterinarian at a house fire? A plume of dark smoke billowed out of the kitchen, and Elle caught the distinct sound of the crackle of flames. She coughed, then turned around and ran back down the hallway. She heard the older fireman’s voice yelling, “Get her out of here, Tate,” followed by the sound of cowboy boots sprinting up the stairs as she raced to the closed door at the end of the hall. She pushed through, ignoring the rush of emotions that normally flooded her when she opened the door to the room decorated in pink-and-white stripes. A hand-knit pink blanket lay in the seat of the rocking chair. Elle grabbed it and clutched it to her chest. If she could only save one thing, it had to be this. She turned back to see Brody in the doorway. He didn’t say anything, just reached for her hand and led her quickly back down the hallway. They reached the top of the stairs, and she froze again at the commotion below—the rush of the firefighters’ feet, the commanding tone of their voices as they shouted orders, the pulsing flash of red lights against the white walls of her entryway. Brody pulled at her hand, but she couldn’t move. He turned back and must have seen the panic in her eyes. His tone was soft as he swept her up, cradling her to him as if she weighed nothing at all. “It’s all right, darlin’. I’ve got you.” She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him, as he carried her down the stairs and out the front door. Elle lifted her head and gulped at the fresh air. “Is there anyone else in the house? Any pets?” She shook her head. “No. Only me.” “You remember me? We met a couple of weeks ago at Bryn’s?” “Yes, I remember. But what are you doing here?” And why was she clutching his neck like he was a life preserver? A handsome, tall cowboy life preserver. 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by: #Blog Tour #Book Review # A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw # A Julianna Baptiste novel @rararesources29/3/2021
 Thank you to Rachel from Rachel's Random Resources for inviting me to participate in the blogtour for A Chance Encounter, a new thriller by Rae Shaw, the first book in Julianna Baptiste series.  A Chance Encounter Julianna Baptiste, a feisty bodyguard, finds her new job tedious, that is until her boss, the evasive Jackson Haynes, spikes her curiosity. Who is behind the vicious threats to his beautiful wife and why is he interested in two estranged siblings? Mark works for Haynes’s vast company. He’s hiding from ruthless money launderers. His teenage sister Ellen has an online friend whom she has never met. Ellen guards a terrible secret. For eight years their duplicitous father has languished in prison, claiming he is innocent of murder. The evidence against him is overwhelming, so why does Mark persist with an appeal? Keen to prove her potential as an investigator, Julianna forces Mark to confront his mistakes. The consequences will put all their lives in danger. Goodreads Pre-order Link UK / US My thoughts: A Chance Encounter is a fascinating beginning of a new series of thrillers featuring a curious and feisty bodyguard Julianna Baptiste. Intrigued by the words 'curious and feisty'? So was I. And Julianna didn't disappoint! As this is the first novel in a new series, there is plenty of 'world-building' or rather since this isn't a fantasy novel, setting up the Julianna Baptiste universe. We find out her backstory. First, only the most salient points e.g. why she spends hours pummelling a punching bag decorated with the photos of her own honeymoon or why she stopped working for the intelligence service and took up a modest position of a bodyguard/occasional chauffer for the family of Jackson Haynes. Julianna might doubt her powers of observation and her ability to see the big picture (due to what happened in her own private life), but when her instinct tells her she needs to pay closer attention to something, it is usually spot on. Julianna is new to the Haynes household and still needs to learn a lot about her employer and his family. There is also a new forensic accountant Mark who is about to begin working forHaynes His chance encounter with his little sister Ellen, whom he hasn't seen for three years, lets us see that Mark's family also have their own secrets and these will make up the backbone of this well thought through plot. The story is told from several points of view- Julianna's, Mark's and Ellen's. I found this form of narrative gave me a much better insight into the characters and the unfolding events without the need for sensational twists, but rather building up meticulously the knowledge we need to understand this complex story. I was drawn straightaway - first by Julianna's personality, then by Mark's intriguing past, then I was shocked by Mark's and Ellen's mother's attitude towards her children, and so on...I just had to keep reading until I reached the end of the book. The narrators' voices are distinct and represent well-rounded characters. The pace was excellent which contributed to my enjoyment of the story. I would really like to read more books written by Rae Shaw and, of course, I would like to continue with this series. Can't wait toread the next Julianna Baptiste novel! Thank you to Rachel from Rachel's Random Resources, the publisher and the author for the reviewcopy. All opinions are my own and were not influenced in any way.  Author Bio Rae Shaw is a pen name for the author Rachel Walkley. Rachel is based in the North West of England. She read her first grown-up detective novel at the age of eleven, which proved to be a catalyst for filling many shelves with crime books, which still occupy her home and grow in number whenever she visits a book shop. As well as crime, Rachel likes to unplug from the real world and writes mysteries that have a touch of magic woven into family secrets. https://raeshawauthor.com/ https://twitter.com/RaeShawauthor Rae Shaw Facebook page Rachel Walkley Thank you for reading the post! Have a great Monday and a wonderful new week! If you would like to find out what other bloggers thought of the book, here is the full blog tour schedule: 
Journey to New Salem
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “Two club sodas, please,” Zack answered. “I’d like a mimosa.” Isis glanced over at Zack’s tilted head. “I’ve always wanted to try one.” The bartender snorted. “I’m going to need to see I.D. for that.” Isis had learned a lot about her connection to the planet’s energy and how to manipulate it. Her mom and Sacha trained her on moving objects while her dad taught her how to create illusions. Dad also knew how to use his connection to force hypnotic suggestions into people’s minds. Although he hadn’t yet taught that skill to Isis, she had seen him do it more than a few times. It basically ran on the same principle as all the other reality-manipulating powers of a witch. Time to put it to the test. Isis reached into her pocketbook and pulled out her hotel room keycard. She looked the bartender directly in the eyes. “I am showing you my I.D. and it says I am old enough to drink an alcoholic beverage.” She focused her thoughts on the bartender’s mind. “You see my picture and my age at twenty-one. Now that you have seen my age, you can place a mimosa on the counter for me to try.” The bartender laughed. “That was cute. Two club sodas coming up.” She reached under the counter and placed two bottles in front of Isis and Zack. “That’ll be eight bucks. You can leave it on the counter.” She then moved onto another group of customers. “Well, damn.” Isis shook her head. “That didn’t work out at all. I guess hypnosis just isn’t my thing.” Isis held out her open palm, pointed at the club sodas. One bottle glided across the countertop to her hand like a piece of metal being pulled to a magnet. At least that ability was still working. “Or maybe your heart just wasn’t into committing a crime.” Zack reached for his bottle and picked it up off the counter. “I’m sure you’re right.” Isis took a swig of the soda while staring off at the dance floor. “Still, I wonder why her blood tastes like syrup.” “I’m sorry, what?” Zack’s face whipped her way. His eyes squinted. “What?” “Did you just say something about tasting the bartender’s blood?” “Did I say that?” Isis honestly couldn’t remember those words coming out of her mouth, yet they sounded so familiar. Zack stood from his bar stool and clenched her wrist. “Isis, are you all right?” Isis stared at the strobe light above the dance floor. Somehow, it seemed brighter, or darker. Or… something. She could hear Zack shouting her name. It echoed as if they were on opposite ends of a tunnel. A striking pain crossed her chest. Everything around her blurred, just like when she’d teleport herself to a new location. But she was sure that wasn’t what was happening. She inhaled but couldn’t catch her breath. “Zack, I think I’m not…okay…” Did she say that out loud or did she think it? Isis couldn’t be sure. Her attention turned back to the bar from the sound of one or both bottles exploding. Her forearm stung from a piece of glass piercing her skin. Zack called out her name. Then everything went dark. 
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Wallflower
-- EXCERPT: This had to be a dream, I thought. Either that or a hallucination. Standing in our driveway, leaning back against my little Honda, hands in his pockets like he was Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles or something, was a guy who knew he looked good even in sweats and a hoodie. Dare Frost. His six-foot-three frame dwarfed my car. Dare was the last person I expected to see waiting outside my house on my last first day of high school. I was so surprised it took me a second to find my voice. But Dare just cocked his head. “Morning flower,” he said. “Better hurry or we’ll be late.” I shook myself out of it. “Are you lost?” “Nope, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” “What are you even doing here?” I asked. “Isn’t it obvious?” He held his hands out, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m here to bum a ride to school. Speaking of, could you pop the locks?” Dare rubbed his hands together. “It’s a little chilly out here.” I laughed, couldn’t help it. “Are you crazy? Dare, I’m not taking you to school.” “Yes, you are.” “No. I’m not.” Dare shrugged. “Coach said you would.” My jaw dropped. “He did what? When? Why?” “That’s a lot of questions,” he said. “But yeah, your dad and I talked the other day after practice. He said you’d give me a ride because we live so close to each other. Said it would be no problem. I run by your house every morning anyway. Plus, my car’s in the shop for repairs.” “Didn’t you just get that car?” I asked. The question made Dare smile for some reason. “You keeping tabs on me, Vi?” I choked. “What? No!” “Hey, no worries,” he said. “I’m not mad about it. A lot of girls do it. Just wasn’t aware you were one of them.” 
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Alien King Crashes the Wedding
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “And finally”—he sighed—“where is my woman hiding? She skipped out right after dinner again.” Falden tapped his earpiece and requested the whereabouts of the young woman who would perhaps, one day, be his queen. “She is heading outside with a towel. Cassiel says she’s headed in our general direction. He and Vander are following behind.” “There are a lot of hot tubs and a large pool out here. I don’t want her stopping at one of those,” directed Dagan with a growing smile. “Make sure she makes it all the way over here.” “Understood,” Gareth said, a smile in his voice. He passed the order on to Cassiel before they re-activated their acoustic cloaking devices, leaving Dagan alone once more. Dagan trusted them implicitly. They would make sure she made it to him safely and none the wiser. They had been with him for years and knew he didn’t have casual relationships. They knew what was at stake for him. The moon was a bright crescent overhead but the sky was overcast. She would barely have enough light to make her way to him. Dagan closed the lid on the box of glowing maju stones, one of Caldor’s preferred sources of energy, so that she would be less likely to see him before climbing into the hot tub. It was frigid and the hot water quickly turned to mist in the cold winter air, further obscuring his presence. Maybe if she couldn’t see him very well she wouldn’t be so afraid of him, thought Dagan. She could let down her guard and start to trust him. It was a solid plan and he relaxed in the water, content to wait for his little human to come to him. He wouldn’t have to wait long, he decided, after hearing a large splash followed by a woman’s shriek, then a short time later another splash and more screaming. He chuckled softly. Sometimes, it was good to be king. 
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-- EXCERPT: “Hello again.” With her heart thumping overtime, Lisa gazed at Shawn McDuff over the hood of her car. He regarded her with a quizzical expression, and her mouth went dry, her palms turning clammy as she took in the late-day bristles darkening his jawline and the tilt to his head. She couldn’t help thinking about him this past week, recalling his potent stare, broad shoulders, and imposing height, and wishing she’d impacted his life as much as he had hers. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you. Hello, Sheriff.” Lisa waved her hand toward the schools. “What brings you here?” “Deputy Sheriff. A tussle between two high schoolers that revealed the pot they were fighting over. Their parents just picked them up.” He strode around the car and reached past her to open her driver’s side door, his thick forearm brushing her hip. Ignoring her hasty sidestep, he leaned on top of the open door and asked, “How are you liking it here?” Lisa took a deep breath, forcing herself to get her act together. She’d never stuttered over a man before, and usually enjoyed getting to know new people. Even though they’d met before, they’d been so young, and it was such a long time ago, and under difficult circumstances. It was dumb to be hurt he didn’t remember her, and likely not in her best interest if something she said or did reminded him. His stay in that foster home must have been longer, and worse than the few hours of her memory. She doubted he would appreciate the past showing up on his doorstep. “I love it. Everyone has been so nice, and welcoming, but I really need to get going. I have an appointment to look at a rental.” Shawn nodded, stepping out of her way. “That would be the Zimmermans’ place, right? I ran into Drew yesterday.” She stood close enough to glimpse his eyes under his hat, warming from his intense focus. “How did you know I was staying at their B&B?” He shrugged. “I asked about you. You’ve made quite a change with your move from Arizona, Ms. Halldor.” Her shoulders went rigid at hearing that, the thought of someone, anyone, prying into her life rubbing her wrong after all the grief she’d suffered from picking up a crazed stalker. “Yes, well, sometimes change is good, or necessary. If you’ll excuse me.” Shawn tipped his hat, his tone a shade rougher as he said, “I hope it’s a good move for you. Get those tires replaced soon.” 
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