The Boy and the Lake by Adam Pelzman / #Extract #BlogTour @RABTBookTours

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Haunted by his discovery of a beloved neighbor’s body floating lifeless in the lake where he’s fishing, 16-year-old Benjamin Baum is convinced she was murdered despite her death being deemed an accident.  While those around him tire of his fixation on finding a supposed killer, Ben’s alienation leads to drinking and the reader begins to wonder if he’s a reliable narrator. The plot takes a shocking twist, revealing the terrifying reality that things are not what they seem—that, beneath a façade of prosperity and contentment, darkness lurks. 

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Extract

Chapter 4

A week after Helen’s funeral, a wicked storm took out power on the lake. Heavy rain strafed the side of the house, spackling the windows with an abrasive mixture of dirt and leaves; the wind roared through a cluster of towering oaks; bending boughs groaned like funeral mourners; and in the rough water, the dock banged against the stone retaining wall.

That evening, my father and I built a fire in the living room hearth using dry pine and kindling stored in the basement, and we lit candles throughout the dark house. Rather than being frightened by the storm and the blackout, I felt secure, for I was home with my family, snug and protected, cut off from the outside world—the flames’ cozy glow dancing off the walls, the mirrors, the slick grass outside. That for a few hours we were transported to a simpler world brought me comfort. I felt as though my development were being frozen for the duration of the storm, encapsulated, my childhood somehow prolonged:

I felt as if I had stolen time.

I lay in my bed and tried to sleep, but the lake blared and cried around me: the lashing rain, a chorus of mad crows, the creaking branches, the thump of the dock against the wall, incessant and ominous, the house bending, resisting, lowering its achy shoulder into the wind. The noises unsettled me, and my thoughts turned to Helen. I looked out of my bedroom window—across the water—and there, in the patch of black before my grandparents’ house, I noticed what appeared to be the distant flame of Papa’s kerosene lantern.

My grandfather and I had developed a secret form of communication that involved two lanterns and a rudimentary version of Morse code. One flash meant come

over, it’s dinner time, two meant come over, the fish are biting, and three meant good night. The phones worked fine, of course, but Papa and I found something pleasurable in our lantern signals, something primitive, coded, and secret.

That stormy night, I glanced at the windup clock beside my bed and saw that it was a few minutes before midnight—and I was puzzled by the possibility that Papa could be up at this hour, outside during a storm. I pressed my nose against the window to get a better look, to confirm that I had not been mistaken. Again, I saw the lantern. One light, two lights. Come over, the fish are biting. It can’t be two, I thought. Maybe it was three for good night? Maybe I hadn’t counted correctly, for my grandfather would never be out in this weather, at this hour, when the fish were quiet. Papa typically flashed two lights as dusk approached, during feeding time, and I could not recall another instance when he had asked me to go fishing so late at night.

The distant lantern suddenly darkened, and all I could see was the radiant house of Herb Coleman—the rich butcher—who had installed a gas-driven generator that would now be the envy of the entire powerless lake. I kept my eyes trained on the patch of black that enveloped my grandparents’ house and waited for the next lantern flash. A few moments passed and the lights—misty white halos in the moist air—started again. I concentrated on each flash, counting with the tap of my foot. One, two. One, two. Yes, that’s fishing, I thought.

This strange communication from Papa, coupled with the mysteries that a storm can conjure in one’s mind, agitated and intrigued me. So I hopped off the bed and put on a pair of jeans, a nylon jacket, and my ankle-high rubber boots, grabbing my Coleman lantern before I left. Out in the hallway, I eyed the sliver of space below my parents’ door. With no sign of the candlelight that had earlier seeped out of their room, I walked down the hallway, my bare feet slipping in the rubber boots, the soles squeaking.

I stood alone in the messy night, unprepared for the weather conditions, which had worsened significantly since I was last outside. The wind was no longer gusty but now steady and continuous; the rain, moving almost parallel to the ground, mixed with leaves and dirt and stung my face; the branches of the old oaks twisted and growled, while the sagging arms of a rotten willow tickled the wet grass. As I walked to the shore, my feet sank into the sodden ground and water slid over the edges of my boots, which had become swollen, leaden, earthbound.

I raised the lantern above my shoulder and flipped the switch. One, two, three. Good night, I signaled. I waited, but my grandfather did not respond. Again, I signaled three times to Papa—but still there was no response. Then, through the screeching wind, I heard a noise that sounded like a door swinging on its rusted joints, then a frightful crack above me—the crack of rotten wood, an oak branch breaking from the stress of the wind and shooting like a spear into the ground before me, its jagged tip piercing the earth only feet away. I gasped and took a step back, away from the point of impact. I looked up to the canopy of oak branches and watched as branches swayed in the wind. Terrified, I took several more steps back toward the house, then raised the lantern. One, two, three, I announced again. Good night. I awaited a response from Papa, but to my disappointment, there was nothing but darkness and, at the far end of the lake, the rich butcher’s house lit up like a carnival midway.

I had trouble sleeping that night, as my mind was astir with thoughts of falling branches, of spears thrown and disasters averted, imaginary lanterns and headless horsemen, Papa and Nana too. I had a nightmare about Helen waving to me from her shiny coffin.

I awoke in the morning to discover that the storm had passed and power was restored. I stepped outside and marveled at the clarity and resolution of the world around me. Every impurity seemed to have been purged from the sky, the water, the trees, and the wind; the swallows, as if

reborn, sang with remarkable range and perfect pitch; a woodpecker launched a ferocious, rapid attack on a sweet birch. The lake, bathed and scrubbed clean, had been restored to its pristine state.

When I returned to the house, my parents were in the kitchen preparing breakfast, and I could see that my mother was in one of her moods. Lillian was for the most part a pleasant and loving woman, but during times of stress or disappointment or loss she could turn irritable, condescending, even cruel. Despite the infrequency of these dark moods, I kept vigilant watch for signs of her transformation and adjusted my behavior in an attempt to avoid her wrath. And on the rare occasion when I complained about her to my father, he would remind me to be patient with her, to channel some deep empathy for her loss—for the loss that we had all suffered when my sister died.

Lillian and Abe stood before the refrigerator, and I watched as my father sniffed the open bottle of milk.

“How is it?” she asked, testy and curt. Helen’s death had darkened her mood, and the storm and the power outage had made it worse.

My father poked his nose into the opening of the bottle. “I think it’s okay but I can’t tell.” He sniffed with a desperation that conveyed his fear of my mother’s temper. “The power was only off for a few hours, so it should be fine.”

“Get your nose out of there,” Lillian barked, then slapped at him with an oily dishrag. “And give me that.” She grabbed the bottle and passed the opening under her flared nostrils. “It’s turned,” she said, prompting my father to sigh. “The fridge is hot as an oven. If we had a generator … the Colemans have one, you know … if you got a generator like I asked you, we wouldn’t have to worry about spoiled milk.” She pulled a package of cream cheese from the refrigerator and examined it. “Now would we?”

Abe turned and saw me standing in the doorway. He winked at me, and I winked back—my attempt at showing

solidarity with him. “No … no, we wouldn’t,” he replied to Lillian in an inevitable concession. “Ben and I, we’ll run down to Shop-Rite and pick up some things for breakfast.”

Eager to escape my mother’s irritation, I tugged at Abe’s elbow and led him out of the house, toward the car. “You know how much those generators cost?” he asked. “The one the Colemans have?”

As we drove downhill, I looked out the car window and spotted Missy delivering papers on her bicycle, a heavy sack over her shoulder. She’s had a late start, I thought. I waved, but she didn’t see me. “I don’t know, Dad. How much?”

My father drove in silence for some time, perhaps a minute. “I don’t know either,” he said. “Expensive, though.”

When we arrived at Shop-Rite, my father directed me to get dessert while he searched for milk, juice, eggs, lox, whitefish, and second-rate bagels. I pushed the cart in search of aisle five, which, because it was packed with every type of sweet, was my favorite aisle at the supermarket. Upon my arrival at this corridor of confection, I gazed at the many treats: pies of all sorts, candies, babkas, hamantaschen, cake mix, chocolate syrup, and more. I took in this sugary paradise, one filled with fantastical collages of colors and smells, sweets and snacks. After scanning the shelves, I grabbed an Entenmann’s coffee cake, a cherry pie, and a bag of mixed chocolates, then turned to see my father standing at the end of the aisle with a full cart.

“Ready?” he called out.

I held up my booty. “Ready.”

“Excellent.” He beamed.

When we arrived back at the house, Abe entered the kitchen with the pride of a hunter who’d just bagged a fourteen-point buck.

“See,” he said, dropping the bags on the table, “fit for a king.” My mother scowled at him. “Or a queen,” he corrected.

Moments later, the jingle of the chimes on the front door announced my grandparents’ arrival, and I ran to greet them. I had been eager to see Papa, for I wanted to understand the mystery of the prior evening: the flashing lantern during the storm. I hugged my grandmother, inhaling her soothing rose perfume, and then turned to my grandfather.

“Papa, were you out last night? With the lantern?”

He appeared confused. “Last night?”

“Yes, you said you wanted to go fishing. Two lights, I counted. You did it twice, and it was after eleven thirty.”

Papa tousled my hair. “You must be mistaken, sport.

Only a crazy person would go out in that weather. It was storming like I haven’t seen in years. And fishing no less!” He guided me to the dining room, where we all sat down for breakfast. Papa’s denial had left me confused, and as I took a sip of orange juice, I considered the possible explanations for his response. Was he playing a joke on me? Or did he really not remember? Had he, perhaps, been sleepwalking? Tipsy? Was it possible that I had mistaken the flashing lights of a car for Papa’s lantern? Or, in the darkness, had I looked in the wrong direction?

“You sure?” I asked, apprehensive and skeptical. As I recalled the branch that almost brained me, my thoughts turned dark. Since Helen had died, my mind was filled with scary notions, paranoia, and conspiracy theories. My closeness to death, to the corpse of a woman I had adored in life, tortured me with irrational fears and nightmares. He smiled and then shook his head. “Sure, Ben.

You must’ve been imagining. All that stress from what’s happened here over the past few days. Or maybe Dr. Lowenthal was out doing something on his dock next door. He’s been acting crazy since Helen died, you know. Poor guy.”

“Okay, Papa,” I replied, unconvinced. I wondered if Papa was right, if Helen’s death had influenced my mental state, made me suspicious, confused—crazy like the surgeon.

My mother glided in from the kitchen and placed a basket of hot bagels on the table, next to a spread of cream cheese, red onions, sliced tomatoes, kugel, egg salad, lox, and smoked whitefish. A smile on Lillian’s face signified that her foul mood had passed. Now surrounded by delicious food and the people she loved, she had returned to her usual state of contentment—a transformation, sudden and extreme, that brought me both relief and apprehension.

As a frenzy of hands grabbed at the food, I imagined another possibility about the prior evening and the lantern lights: that this memory might have been nothing more than a dream, one that was inspired, magnified, and given life by the stormy night. But then I glanced over to the foyer and saw that my boots were right where I’d left them the evening before—untouched and surrounded by blades of grass and clumps of mud. I looked across the table to Papa as he draped a strip of lox on a sesame bagel.

When he bit into it, a dollop of scallion cream cheese stuck to the tip of his nose.

He smiled at me—and I assured myself that it was not a dream.

Thank you, Adam Pelzman and RABT Book Tours

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About the author

Adam Pelzman was born in Seattle, raised in northern New Jersey, and has spent most of his life in New York City. He studied Russian literature at the University of Pennsylvania and went to law school at UCLA. His first novel, Troika, was published by Penguin (Amy Einhorn Books). He is also the author of The Papaya King, which Kirkus Reviews described as “entrancing,” “deeply memorable” and “devilishly smart social commentary.” The Boy and the Lake, set in New Jersey during the late 1960s, is his third novel.

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Author Links

Website: https://www.adampelzman.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/adam.pelzman.5

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7341058.Adam_Pelzman

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/adampelzman/

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Book Links

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Boy-Lake-Adam-Pelzman-ebook/dp/B08FRNB8X2

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-boy-and-the-lake-adam-pelzman/1137592747?ean=9781733258524

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-boy-and-the-lake

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-boy-and-the-lake/id1530990765

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Giveaway

An ebook copy and $5 gift card

A Real Royal Christmess by Linda West / #Interview #BlogTour @pumpupyourbook @Morningmayan

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A runaway Prince leaves his Kingdom to complete his father’s dying wish.

A broken-hearted girl concocts a plan to win her ex back no matter the cost.

When these two opposites are thrown together by fate and end up in the same adorable ski lodge, to their dismay and surprise, their lives will be changed forever-after.

A fast-paced funny and enchanting holiday romance you won’t be able to forget!

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Q&A

Would you please tell us a bit about yourself? 

Sure! I’m originally from Buffalo near the Canadian border and grew up with snow half my life. I had to write Christmas books because it is huge in my snow town and its a joy to write.

What do you do when you are not writing?

I love cats, painting, hiking and I’m currently learning French:)

What are some books you have enjoyed recently?

Well Met by Jen Deluca was a joy!

How do you relax?

I watch Hallmark movies!

Please summarize the book a la Twitter style for the readers here

A broken hearted accountant meets a run away prince on vacation at a quaint snow lodge in Vermont. They are both pretending to be someone they aren’t, and when the truth comes out it’s one big ChristMESS:)

Tell us all about your main character(s) — Who are they? What makes them tick.  

Jess is a sweet girl who’s lost her parents at an early age and is scared of almost everything in her life. She lives alone with her cats and cooks for fun. When her boyfriend breaks her heart her best friend, Molly, talks her into going on vacation with her, they come up with a plan for Jess to win her boyfriend back by pretending to be an adventurous instagram model and fake exciting pictures to post on social media to win back her ex boyfriend.

Jamison is a prince of Atalonia that is about to take the crown now that his father has passed away. His greatest sadness is that he and his father didn’t get to complete his father’s bucket list they had made together. Jamison sneaks off to America to finish the bucket list in his name and to pretend to be just a normal guy before he comes back to take the throne.

What was your favorite chapter (or part) to write and why?

When Jess and Jamison finally admit who they really are. That was fun to write!

What did you enjoy most about writing this book?

The characters. I love underdogs and I love to write about average people that find happiness and great love. The royal castle part is just pure fantasy and fun to write as well.

Thank you, Linda West and Pump Up Your Book

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About the author 

Linda West is a multiple Amazon bestselling author. She is owned by a few feral cats but when she has time she writes adorable romances that are funny and moving. Her Kissing Bridge series is being currently being considered being made into Hallmark films.

Sign up for Linda’s newsletter and receive a free book!

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Author Links 

https://twitter.com/Morningmayan

http://www.morningmayan.com/

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Book Links

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2T2eJfR

Love Offline by Olivia Spring / #SpotlightPost #BookBirthdayBlitz @rararesources @ospringauthor

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Emily’s Struggling To Find Romance Online. Will Ditching The Dating Apps Lead To True Love?

Online dating isn’t working for introvert Emily. Although she’s comfortable swiping right at home in her PJs, the idea of going out to meet a guy in person fills her with dread.

So when her best friend challenges her to ditch the apps, attend a load of awkward singles’ events and find love in real life, Emily wants to run for the hills.

Then she meets Josh. He’s handsome, kind and funny, but Emily’s had her heart crushed before and knows he’s hiding something…

Is Josh too good to be true? Can Emily learn to trust again and if she does, will it lead to love or more heartache?

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Spotlight Post

Thank you, Olivia Spring and Rachel’s Random Resources

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About the author

Olivia Spring is a British, London-based writer of contemporary women’s fiction, sexy chick lit and romantic comedy. Her uplifting debut novel ‘The Middle-Aged Virgin’, which was released in July 2018, deals with being newly single in your thirties and beyond, dating, relationships, love, sex and living life to the full.

Olivia published three novels in 2019: ‘Only When It’s Love’, ‘Losing My Inhibitions’ and ‘Love Offline’. ‘The Middle-Aged Virgin in Italy’, the hotly anticipated sequel to ‘The Middle-Aged Virgin’ and Olivia’s fifth novel, was published in July 2020.

When she’s not writing, Olivia can be found making regular trips to Italy to indulge in pasta, pizza and gelato and of course, seeking inspiration for her next book!

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Author Links

https://twitter.com/ospringauthor

https://www.facebook.com/ospringauthor/

https://www.instagram.com/ospringauthor/

http://www.oliviaspring.com/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/olivia-spring

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Book Links

UK: https://amzn.to/2OKcwF3

US: https://amzn.to/35p81oZ

Love Offline is available to read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited. It is also available to read for FREE in Prime Reading until late November.

Inside Voices by Sarah Davis / #Interview #BlogTour @rararesources @SarahDavisAuth1  

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The mind is a strange beast…extraordinary, unpredictable, protective.

Penny Osborn’s mind is no exception. In High School, Penny witnessed a massacre and lost her father to the same killers. She had seen it unfold before it happened, in a premonition, but could not prevent it.

A college research project at the edge of the Arctic is her chance for a new beginning. Struggling with PTSD, Penny’s therapy includes running, dogs, and guitars. Yet her fresh start is plagued by new premonitions, dark and foreboding, that coincide with a rising number of murders in the community. Her visions are vague, offering little to identify the killer.

When confronted with an orphaned polar bear cub, Penny risks everything to save its life. The deepening mystery of the murdered women, coupled with the exhaustive duties of caring for the small cub, draw her closer to her friend, Noah, and further from her sister.

Fearful for the serial killer’s next target, Penny discovers where her physical abilities can help her.

Will letting go of the past lead to healing? And can she stop the murders?

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Q&A

– When and where do you prefer to write? 

I prefer to write early morning when all are asleep, and I am fresh and ready to face the day. Saturday and Sunday are the only days available for that, though, as I work full time. The dining table is where I set up and create magic. Every other day, I’ll scratch notes on post-its or my erasable notebook to refer to those days with a more extended writing period.

– Do you have a certain ritual?

Nope. I am of the sporadic, take advantage of the situation kind of gal.

– Is there a drink of some food that keeps you company while you write? 

Water or diet soda to drink. If I eat, I take a break, so I don’t grease up my keyboard.

– What is your favourite book? In what genre? 

All would fall under fantasy. The Last Unicorn (Peter S. Beagle). I bought the graphic novel and read them for my daughters when they were younger. Or The Name of the Wind (Patrick Rothfuss) or Night Circus (Erin Morgenstern). Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. Or Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling)…Oh, but James Rollins…his books are excellent (he’s a vet, too). Too hard to pick one!

– Do you consider writing a different genre in the future? 

Yes, I am working on a sci-fi/fantasy novel at the moment. Very excited about it! I’ve also a sequel in my head for Inside Voices, and three other ideas (sci-fi/fantasy, fantasy/horror/time travel, and steampunk).

– Do you sometimes base your characters on people you know? 

No, I don’t want someone to read my work and feel like I am writing about them. Ha. I will pick out little quirks, though. Or broader personality traits.

– Do you take a notebook everywhere to write down ideas that pop up? 

Yes! I have several sizes, too. Rocketbooks are my latest favorite writing tool. My penmanship is terrible, so once I transcribe notes into another notebook, I can erase the gibberish.

– Which genre do you not like at all? 

I wouldn’t say I don’t like a specific genre at all. Comparatively, I don’t read much outside of fantasy or thrillers, tho.

– If you had the chance to co-write a book, whom would it be with? 

A dream co-writer would be Neil Gaimen or Charlie Tyler, author of The Cry of the Lake.

– If you should travel to a foreign country to research, which one would you choose and why? 

How much time do I have? The west coast of Australia if months or Iceland if weeks. I have never been to either place. Both have extreme and beautiful landscapes that interest and intrigue me. Although Ireland and Norway (I’ve Scandinavian blood) would also rank up there.

Thank you so much for the opportunity to be on your blog. I appreciate it and hope you enjoy Inside Voices!!

Thank you, Sarah Davis and Rachel’s Random Resources

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About the author

Sarah Davis is many things…wife, mother, veterinarian, writer. An avid reader, she enjoys stories that transport her into new and exciting lands. Having read more books than she could ever count, she has considered writing a novel for ages. It wasn’t until the idea for “Inside Voices” popped into her mind that she finally started pursuing that dream, with much encouragement from her family. She and her incredible husband share their remote home on the prairie with their three extraordinary children and one mostly human weimaraner.

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Author Links

Blog: www.sarahdavisauthor.com   

Facebook Author page: https://www.facebook.com/sarahdavisdvm/  

Facebook Personal page: https://www.facebook.com/sarahshoarse  

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SarahDavisAuth1  

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pennyosborn10/  

https://www.instagram.com/sarahdavisdvm/

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Book Link

http://mybook.to/insidevoices

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Giveaway 

Win a $15 Amazon Giftcard 

*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome.  Please enter using the Rafflecopter box below.  The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then Rachel’s Random Resources reserves the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over.  Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time Rachel’s Random Resources will delete the data.  I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/33c69494396/?

Tree Slayer by Harriet Springbett / #Extract #BlogTour @LoveBooksGroup @HarriSpringbett @ImpressBooks1

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Nine months after the events of Tree Magic, Rainbow is struggling to come to terms with how she’s changed. Her bond with trees has grown, but now they’re under threat from the Tree Slayer.

To save them, she’ll need to leave everything she knows and loves. It will be her greatest adventure yet – but she cannot succeed alone.

She’ll have to enlist the help of Eole, an enigmatic scientist and sceptic.

Does Rainbow have what it takes to face the Tree Slayer? And can she trust Eole, who has powers of his own?

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Extract

Rainbow put down the phone and raced upstairs to her bedroom. Christophe had a surprise for her and he sounded excited about it.

She pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, scraped her long brown hair into a ponytail and clattered back downstairs. She paused at the bathroom to brush her teeth. She didn’t want morning breath to interfere with kissing.

Mum was in the kitchen, humming her new song as she made tea for the commune adults.

“Can I borrow the Mini?” Rainbow asked. “I’m going over to Christophe’s.”

Mum yawned. “I thought you were revising all weekend?”

“I’ve got the rest of the day to revise. And tomorrow. I won’t be long.”

Mum nodded, sat down with her tea and started scribbling musical notes on her manuscript. Rainbow dropped a kiss on her cheek, scooped up the keys and dashed outside into the sunny June morning.

She hadn’t seen Christophe all week. He’d been training a new motorbike apprentice at work and persuaded Rainbow to spend the final evenings before her Baccalaureate exams revising instead of hanging out with him. So she had. She’d ignored the call of the woods and sat in her loft, her school books open, gazing out of the windows at the enticing leaves.

Christophe. A smile spread across her face as she drove towards his flat in Cognac. They’d been together for nine months – the nine best months of her life. They’d also been the strangest, but that wasn’t because of Chris. It was because of Mary.

When she and Mary hugged the silver maple tree last September, it had somehow absorbed Mary’s body. Rainbow absorbed Mary’s mind, which supposedly healed the split that should never have happened. All Mary’s memories and emotions, from the moment she and Mary split into two parallels, had lodged themselves inside Rainbow.

Rainbow didn’t feel healed. Mary continued to live on: to think and react to everything in Rainbow’s life, making Rainbow feel overstuffed with bizarre feelings that conflicted with her own. Mary’s negativity and her rebelliousness, her irreverent humour, her courage and her uncertainties all battled with Rainbow’s own, simpler worldview. Mary was so strong, Rainbow could almost hear her voice, and she experienced yearnings for places she’d never seen and people she’d never known.

After nine months, she still felt as if she’d swallowed Mary whole, like a dose of unpleasant medicine, and was unable to digest her. All she could do was to keep the thoughts and feelings that emerged from Mary in a separate part of her mind, a small part that didn’t interfere with her true self. Between her and Mary was a mental wall, a wall of bricks.

The only good part of sharing her mind and body with Mary was the love for Christophe she’d brought with her. There was no keeping that behind the wall. It seeped through the gaps and filled her with a heady scent that made life more joyful than ever before. 

Luckily, Christophe understood her Mary problems. He understood everything about her – except, perhaps, that she didn’t like revising. Or her obsession with Amrita Devi.

She parked Mum’s Mini in front of the motorbike shop in Cognac and jumped out, hoping the surprise wasn’t anything to do with motorbikes. Christophe’s flat was above the shop where he worked, though he didn’t work on Saturdays. She rang the doorbell to his flat and waited.

Amrita Devi was the girl in the Bishnoi legend who had saved a tree and lived – or saved a tree and died, according to Mary. Rainbow firmly believed Amrita had lived.

Although she hadn’t seen Amrita since her vision last September, she’d had incessant dreams about her. At the beginning, the dreams showed her and Amrita as the closest of sisters, running through woodland together, holding hands, sharing secrets and laughing. But the dreams were becoming darker. The last few times they’d been nightmares, with Amrita pleading for help and begging Rainbow to understand something that Rainbow could never grasp. When Rainbow told Christophe about her dreams, his brown eyes would begin to glaze and she’d have to tickle him until he listened properly.

Christophe buzzed open the front door for her and waited at the top of the stairs. She looked at him carefully as she walked up, in case the surprise was something boring like a new haircut. His thick hair was standing up at odd angles, which was normal for the morning, and there were no signs of piercings or tattoos. He did look worried, though. She glided into his bear hug and he held her tight.

Thank you, Harriet Springbett and Love Books Group

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About the author

Harriet Springbett’s childhood on a small farm in West Dorset gave her an early exposure to nature, which continues to inspire her writing.

She qualified as an engineer but, during a Raleigh International expedition in Chile, she realised she preferred words to numbers. She abandoned her profession, moved to France, studied French and then worked as a project manager, feature writer, translator and TEFL teacher. She now lives in Poitou-Charentes with her French partner and their teenage children.

Since her first literary success, aged 10, her short stories and poetry have been published in literary journals and placed in writing competitions, including a shortlisting in the 2017 Bath Short Story Award.

Harriet leads writing workshops, has judged the Segora international short story competition

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Author Link

blog https://harrietspringbett.wordpress.com

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Book Link

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Tree-Slayer-Harriet-Springbett/dp/1911293397/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=tree+slayer&qid=1603789258&s=books&sr=1-1

East Beach by W.F. Ranew/ #Extract #BlogTour @RABTBookTours @wfranew

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Red Farlow Mysteries, Book 3

 FBI Agent Joseph Trammell retires to a beachfront home on a Georgia island.

Six months later, PI Red Farlow finds him dying in a pool of blood. Someone shot him four times. Five shell casings litter the floor. Drops of blood lead out of the house and onto East Beach on St. Simons Island. Red sets out to find out who killed Joe Trammell and why.

Did the local drug and arms smuggler hire a hit? And who caught the fifth bullet?

Farlow wades into the murky water of intrigue, conflicting love affairs, and danger as he tracks down the killer. It’s not exactly a relaxing day at the beach.

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Extract

The August day dawned sunny, hot, and humid on the morning Rehna Wilkerson met the man from East Beach.

A vacation rental sign at the East Beach cottage had fallen overnight in a late summer rainstorm. As she drove by, Rehna saw the sign flat on the ground and pulled over to the grassy curb. She let her late-model luxury car idle while she got out, leaving the door open, and walked over the wet grass in her heels to re-stake the metal frame. She took care to place it at the proper angle for maximum visibility from the street.

Rehna Wilkerson prided herself on the details. The small things. The things that didn’t matter to anyone else. Satisfied the sign stood just right, she took a moment to admire the words. Rehna’s Cottage Rentals, My Island is Your Vacation Paradise, and her phone number. She turned to go back to the car.

At that moment, she heard tires squeal and looked up. A man in an old Army vehicle barreled around the corner and sped up the residential street toward her. She saw him looking at something, perhaps his cell phone. He was driving too fast and not paying attention.

Rehna thought of her open door. Too late. Bam! She raised her hands over her face. The man’s vehicle struck and smashed the driver side door into the car’s newly

washed, shiny English Forest Green body. Rehna removed her hands and saw the damage. She screamed. The driver brought his vehicle to a stop just shy of a royal palm tree. He sat there

and looked around for something. The man must have realized he’d smashed the hell out of someone’s high-end

car. He jumped out of the four-by-four and walked in Rehna’s direction. Rehna didn’t recognize him but figured he was a tradesman or landscaper. She

knew everyone who was anyone in East Beach, but she’d never before seen this person.

She felt herself boiling up and caught her temper. Never know when you’ll get a new renter or referral. She walked slowly to examine the damage to her prized car. Not good.

The man held his hands up and said how sorry he was.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. “I’ll make this right for you, ma’am, and rent you a car until the damages are fully repaired.”

It was then that Rehna got a good look at the man. Tall, gray-haired, handsome as the devil himself, and contrite. Those were all things she related to about men. Males who attracted her bore those traits, appearance, and allure. She encountered few of this type in her husband’s ministry.

Secretly and deep down on that hot August morning, she thought the cur had ruined her car. She prayed to God to give her peace as this thing got sorted out.

“Well, yes, it is a mess, isn’t it?” she said. Remember, don’t blame him. That was her first angel’s logic. The devil inside her—and sweet Rehna had a devil in her— commanded her other thoughts. To hell with this bastard for ruining my car. Another

angel, the second and slightly wicked one—burst into her head—God, Rehna, entice him to disrobe you and toss you on his bed.

The first angel’s retort. Careful what you wish for, dear.

Rehna heard all kinds of voices, but these three meant something to her. She listened to them. At that moment, they all came at once, and she didn’t know which one to follow.

The man walked up close to her. “Again, I am sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll call the police, and then we’ll talk about getting you a loaner.”

Rehna, for a long moment, just looked at him.

Finally, she walked to the car and opened the trunk. She took out a purse and a large shoulder bag. She closed the lid and looked around as the man stood there waiting for her response.

The sky had dawned a clear blue as the front the night before moved out to sea. A gentle summer breeze whipped her face. God was good. She would be OK.

She told the man everything would work out.

“Yes, I’ll make certain of that,” he said. “By the way, my name is Joe Trammell. Most people call me Tram. I just moved here last week.”

Thank you, W.F. Ranew and RABT Book Tours

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About the author

W.F. Ranew is a former newspaper reporter, editor, and communication executive. He started his journalism career covering sports, police, and city council meetings at his hometown newspaper, The Quitman Free Press. He also worked as a reporter and editor for several regional dailies: The Augusta (Ga.) Chronicle, The Florida Times-Union, and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

Ranew has written two previous novels: Schoolhouse Man and Candyman’s Sorrow. He lives with his wife in Atlanta and St. Simons Island, Ga.

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Author Links

Website:  https://www.wfranew.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/wfranew

Twitter: https://twitter.com/wfranew

Blog:  https://wfranew.wordpress.com

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15222195.W_F_Ranew

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/w.f.ranew/

Linked In: https://www.linkedin.com/in/frankranew

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Book Links

Amazon: https://amazon.com/author/wfranew

Barnes and Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/east-beach-wf-ranew/1137509812?ean=2940164223472

Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/east-beach

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/east-beach/id1528351759

Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1038988

Publisher: https://tirpub.com/wfranew

Giveaway

$15 Amazon gift card

Eris Rising by Courtney Ramm / #Extract #BlogTour @RABTBookTours @PublishingAcorn

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Warrior’s aren’t born, they are forged from the harsh experiences that shape them as they strive to defend what is sacred and true. And geniuses aren’t born either—or are they? Courtney Ramm would know, as she’s one of 229 offspring born from the controversial “Genius Sperm Bank”, a genetic experiment that existed in the 1980s and ‘90s. With a predisposition for “genius”, Courtney found herself driven toward success. Following her passion for dance, by the age of eight she was studying at the renowned School of American Ballet and soon thereafter, performing on New York’s greatest stages. At twenty-five years old, she acted upon a strong inner calling to start her own dance company—in Hawaii.

Moving across the globe from the concrete jungle of Manhattan to the tropical jungle in Hawaii, Courtney brought along her endless to-do lists and a strong determination to succeed. But one thing was missing from the picture-perfect life she had imagined: a perfect husband.

When she first locked eyes with Marcus at a spiritual gathering, she sensed something was off in the uncanny intensity of his stare. But she dove into a relationship anyway, not grasping the graveness and outright danger of the decision.

Eris Rising is a story of breaking deep karmic patterns, grappling with the calling of destiny, and changing long-held karma into mission. With the powerful feminine warrior spirit of Eris as inspiration, this memoir shows how it’s possible to move forward after life-altering “mistakes”, and recover the true “genius” within.

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Extract

One sunny Saturday morning, after teaching his daughter’s ballet class, I asked Marcus, whose gig on the Big Island had fallen through after all, “Hey, do you happen to know any guys on the island who can dance?”

All of the other children and their parents had left, and Maya was across the room entertaining herself with colorful rubber dots, a prop for an earlier class of toddlers.

Stepping in closer, and towering over me at an impressive six foot three, Marcus now stood barely an inch away, his bright green eyes sparkling even more than usual. Sunlight from the large, open windows cast golden beams over his muscular arms and torso. The chemistry between us escalated, and although we were only having a conversation, much more seemed at play.

“Yes, me!” he answered.

I figured he was joking—he wasn’t a professional dancer. So, I joked back, “Great! When can you start rehearsing?”

“Tomorrow!”

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Of course, I’m serious. I can dance!”

He proceeded to leap and waltz around the studio. As I watched him make an utter fool of himself, I considered his offer. He had just completed a yoga teacher training, and he was uncannily strong. I figured if he had basic body awareness from doing yoga, and he would be able to lift me, I could probably make it work. Plus, I had no other options and needed to find someone immediately. It was a huge risk to accept his offer, but he was so confident in himself and his ability to learn.

Training someone to perform who had no dance training whatsoever was a huge undertaking, one I never would have accepted if I hadn’t already had such a massive crush on him. Working with a professional dancer would have required only a few rehearsals to learn basic partnering choreography, whereas working with Marcus required countless hours trying to catch him up on ten-plus years of training so that he’d remember basic things like to point his toes and not grunt when he picked me up. Basic dance concepts had to be broken down and taught before I could even get to the choreography. And then, making his dancing appear smooth and graceful was a whole new, almost impossible, project.

I had a limited number of hours to use the dance studio I rented in Kailua, and we needed somewhere that would allow us to rehearse as much as our schedule permitted. I had access to the high-end health club where I taught, which had four large mirrored rooms that were mostly free during the day, as classes were held either in the morning or evening. If I could get Marcus a membership, we could rehearse as much as we needed. As a yoga and Pilates teacher at the club, I was entitled to a spouse membership, yet Marcus and I weren’t married or anything even close. But we were lovers—didn’t that count? I went into my boss’s office to inquire.

“As long as you and your boyfriend live together, you can sign him up,” she said.

Boyfriend? Marcus had never claimed to be my boyfriend. But in this instance, maybe he would play along. I approached him with my genius idea, to which he immediately and happily agreed.

“I’ll play being your boyfriend anytime.”

The next day, as we rode up in the elevator to the health club, I whispered, “Remember, you’re my boyfriend.”

“I got this,” he said with a smile.

The second the elevator doors opened, he grabbed my hand, intertwined his fingers into mine, and led me out of the elevator with the biggest love-struck smile I’d ever seen, which made me start laughing hysterically.

Oh, my God, he is so good at this.

Thank you, Courtney Ramm and RABT Book Tours

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About the author

Born and raised in the heart of New York City, Courtney Ramm has followed her passion for dance since childhood, which led to a career as a professional dancer, choreographer, and teacher. She’s directed dance schools, performed, and taught all over the world, from Singapore to Thailand to Manhattan. 

With her Master’s degree in Dance Education, Courtney has led wellness retreats in Hawaii, focusing on empowerment and transformation. Courtney is the founder and artistic director of RammDance, a non-profit dedicated to keeping the legacy of modern dance pioneer Isadora Duncan alive. She blends her love of dance with holistic healing, and is a certified Pilates instructor, Yoga teacher, Ayurvedic consultant, Theta healer, Master Detox Chef, and Reiki practitioner.

Alongside her focused training and career in dance, writing has always been one of Courtney’s passions. She knew she would write a book—although she never imagined her memoir would take such a twisted turn.

Courtney is a full-time single mama to two toddlers. Eris Rising is her first book.

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Author Links

Website: https://www.courtneyramm.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/courtney.ramm

Blog: https://www.courtneyramm.com/blog-1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20343266.Courtney_Ramm

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/courtney_ramm/

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Book Link

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Eris-Rising-Courtney-Ramm/dp/1952112117/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2V0B1PN2T1T0B&dchild=1&keywords=eris+rising+courtney+ramm&qid=1603697122&sprefix=eris+rising%2Caps%2C410&sr=8-1

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Giveaway

$25 Amazon gift card

Man F@#k! by Rod F Marchand / #Extract #BlogTour @RABTBookTours @Rod_Marchand @mkwebsiteandseo

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#1 in the Entrepreneurship Management 

#1 in Sales & Selling. 

#1 Hot New Release in both categories 

Ranked Top 1000 in the entire Kindle Store. 

Man…F@#K! shares the honest and often unspoken reality of entrepreneurship while serving up a large dose of much-needed hope and inspiration to all business owners and entrepreneurs trying to take their companies to the next level. Unlike most other books on business, this book clearly defines the difficulties of life and the challenges of managing and building a brand from virtually nothing into a potential global company. It also accurately illustrates the struggles of working with a family business and the expectations of starting in a small market and what it takes to overcome those challenges and achieve personal and professional goals on a larger scale.

It’s a fun, yet realistic story of what it takes to keep your head up in times of trial – when all you can think is Man…F@#K! out of frustration – in order to ultimately make your dreams a reality.

Rod F. Marchand is the president and CEO of Marchand Retail Group, Inc. operating multiple businesses including retail, wholesale, and manufacturing. 

As a second generation, family-owned business operation, he is excited to welcome his sons into the transition of a third-generation ownership group. 

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Extract

Title “The decision” – “We took over the family business on January 1st, 1999. There was both excitement and nervousness in this new venture. Obviously, we were very young, but my wife and I were ready to get to work. Our original agreement was simply buying the business, not the real estate.”

Thank you, Rod F Marchand and RABT Book Tours

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About the author

Rod is a proud husband and father of seven children and currently three grandchildren, dedicated to inspiring other entrepreneurs to seek out achieving their dreams and goals!  

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Author Links

Website: https://rodmarchand.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RodFMarchand/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Rod_Marchand

Blog: https://rodmarchand.com/entrepreneur-author-rod-marchand-press-media/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/RodMarchand/

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/rodmarchand/

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/rodmarchand

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Book Links

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Man-Reality-Entrepreneurship-Rod-Marchand/dp/1735271071/

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/manf-k-rod-f-marchand/1137465641

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781735271071

The Last Rose of Summer by Mary Austin / #Extract #BlogTour @RABTBookTours @MaryAustinBooks

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While working independently as a pre-med student at Cleary University, the soon-to-be physician, Mary Austin, discovers a remarkable, non-toxic drug that could offer tremendous hope to cancer patients. Her work is headed for publication in a top medical journal until a drug company begins negotiations with her bosses from which she is mysteriously excluded.

Amid egregious sexual harassment, Mary’s materials are blatantly sabotaged. As death threats follow and her work becomes impossible, she is accepted at Whitehead College of Medicine despite evidence that her bosses tampered with her application process. After becoming a pediatrics resident, she shares her story with her beloved mentor, Dr. Daniel Taylor, who allows her to temporarily leave her residency training to reproduce the work. Her joy turns to sorrow and then determination when she learns that Dr. Taylor is battling terminal pancreatic cancer. Even as a chain of events prompts the sabotage of Mary’s drug stock and leaves her seemingly without any choice but to permanently leave academic medicine, the story of her drug is not over yet.

In this novel inspired by a true story, after a young cancer researcher discovers a breakthrough drug that could change chemotherapy, the drug industry suppresses the breakthrough and transforms her life and career forever.

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Extract

St. Elmo’s Fire

St. Elmo’s fire is a beautiful natural phenomenon that occurs in highly electrically charged atmospheres around violent storms. St. Elmo is the Italian name of St. Erasmus, the patron saint of sailors; when the violet light licked up over the surfaces of a ship, sailors in bygone eras felt it was an omen that their patron saint was with them in the storm.

The truth I was investigating was beautiful beyond belief, but dear God, was there a storm around it. Still, I was not going to reverse course unless I died, and thank God Dr. Taylor, my protector, was still with me.

Thank you, Mary Austin and RABT Book Tours

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About the author

Mary Austin is the pseudonym for a physician who, in order to publicize a suppressed discovery in cancer research, had to sacrifice first her academic career, then a career as a board-certified pediatrician, and then her personal safety. She would do it again.

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Author Links

Website: https://maryaustinbooks.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MaryAustinBooks

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryAustinBooks

Blog: https://maryaustinbooks.com/blog/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/MaryAustinBooks

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/MaryAustinBooks/

LinkedIn : https://www.linkedin.com/company/maryaustin/

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Book Links

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Last-Rose-Summer-Mary-Austin/dp/1480890510/

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-last-rose-of-summer-mary-austin/1137245105

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781480890510

B-A-M: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Last-Rose-Summer/Mary-Austin/9781480890510?id=7940696608287

Better Sleep, Happier Life by Dr. Venkata Buddharaju / #Extract #BlogTour @RABTBookTours @drbuddharaju @mkwebsiteandseo

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Simple Natural Methods to Refresh Your Mind, Body, and Spirit

Did you know that sleep is a key component for a happy life? Research shows us it is. But with all of today’s technology and stresses, many people are getting less sleep or experiencing poorer quality sleep. This can negatively impact mood, concentration, productivity, physical health and, yes, even happiness.

As a practicing physician for more than twenty years, Dr. Venkata Buddharaju (known as Dr. Buddha to his patients) has extensive experience treating patients with sleep problems. And the number of patients he is seeing with sleep disorders is on the rise. 

In Better Sleep, Happier Life, Dr. Buddharaju teaches seven simple, practical, and natural methods to help you get better sleep in order to refresh your mind and body. Filled with wisdom from his years of experience as well as simple lifestyle changes, Better Sleep, Happier Life can help you find rest and refreshment in the midst of your busy life…and reap the benefits.

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Video

https://youtu.be/DGzT78QuIGU

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Extract

Introduction

Over the decades, humans have gradually reduced the time they spend in quality sleep and are awake longer in a twenty-four-hour time cycle. According to a study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and other studies, about 35 percent of US adults are not getting the recommended seven to nine hours of sleep on a regular basis. Even teenagers, who need extra hours of sleep (eight to ten hours), are spending less time sleeping.

According to a 2006 National Sleep Foundation poll, 87 percent of US high school students get far less than the recommended eight to ten hours of sleep.Some of the consequences of poor sleep are anxiety, depression,suicidal thoughts, obesity, diabetes, hypertension, stroke, heart attack, excessive daytime sleepiness, poor concentration, and an increased risk for motor vehicle and other accidents. In addition to these worrisome health consequences and sleep deprivation’s impact on the body and mind, America’s lack of sleep is costing billions of healthcare dollars.

A good night’s sleep prior to a major performance—such as a musical concert, athletic match, important academic test, or corporate presentation—is key for optimal performance. A well-rested brain and body feel more positive and perform much better. On the other hand, students who stay up too late and sleep only a few hours prior to a major exam, do poorly on the test due to their lack of ability to focus. That’s because the information that was learned during their awake state is stored in memory centers of the brain during sleep, particularly in deep Rapid Eye Movement (REM) sleep, which is when most dreams occur. They have not given their brain enough sleep time to process the information that they learned during the day. As a result, they do not retain the information they have learned.

The vicious cycle of sleepless nights and daytime worry due to less than optimal performance makes things worse. The two feed one another. But, by making small changes to your lifestyle and eliminating distractions, you can open up the door for more focused attention. This will lead to increased productivity at work and more success at both work and home. These changes should bring needed sleep and a chance to live a happier life. Lifestyle modification involves removing distractions. I hope you will find the information in this book valuable and helpful in bringing about the necessary yet simple changes to get better sleep and lead a happier life.

Thank you, Dr. Venkata Buddharaju and RABT Book Tours

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About the author

Dr. Venkata Buddharaju (or Dr. Buddha, as his patients call him) is a fellowship-trained physician at the Albany Medical Center in Albany, New York. He is Board Certified in Internal Medicine, Pulmonary, Critical Care and Sleep Medicine from the American Board of Internal Medicine.

He now teaches and consults at hospital intensive care units and pulmonary units as well as sleep medical practices. He is a Clinical Assistant Professor of Medicine at the University of Illinois at Chicago (UIC) and teaches medical students from UIC, Chicago Medical School and Internal Medicine resident trainees at Weiss Memorial Hospital in Chicago.

He directs the Sleep Disorders Center and Clinic at Thorek Memorial Hospital in Chicago and serves as a Section Chief of Pulmonary & Critical Care at AMITA Health Saints Mary and Elizabeth Medical Center Chicago where he teaches Internal Medicine and Family Practice Residents while working in ICU as an Intensivist. Additionally, he is president of the medical staff at Kindred Chicago Lakeshore and Central hospitals. Dr. Buddharaju has numerous medical-device patents and is working to develop more patient friendly medical devices. Throughout his career, he has conducted clinical research, published his work in various medical journals, and worked to develop and implement high quality patient-care policies. He believes strongly that balancing natural healing practices with traditional medicine is important for the future of effective health care.

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Author Links

Website: https://www.drbuddha.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DrBuddharaju/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/drbuddharaju

Blog: https://www.drbuddha.com/health-and-wellness-tip-blog/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53511013-better-sleep-happier-life

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/DrBuddharaju/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCi1k6iu6nFJiJ2Ab7GD24ng/

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Book Links

Amazon:  https://amzn.to/2EF0Os7

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/better-sleep-happier-life-venkata-buddharaju/1136553736?ean=2940162686613

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/better-sleep-happier-life

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/better-sleep-happier-life/id1500652002?ls=1

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781647040079

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=5dDSDwAAQBAJ

B-A-M: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Better-Sleep-Happier-Life/Venkata-Buddharaju/9781647040079?id=7944079310062