Father of One by Jani Anttola

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Maka, a young Bosnian soldier, has survived three years under siege. When the enemy forces launch their final attack on his hometown, he must escape to the hills. But traversing the vast woods is a task against all odds: to stay alive, and to find his infant son and his wife, he is soon forced to make a desperate move.

Set against the harrowing background of raging guerrilla warfare and the genocide in Srebrenica, Father of One is, at heart, a story of deep humanity, compassion and love. It is the account of one man’s desire to reunite his family, separated by war, and of bonds unbroken by trauma, sustained by loyalty and tenacity. Writing in a voice that rings with clarity and authenticity, Jani Anttola lays open a dark moment in Europe’s recent history.

Read an Excerpt

The old man they called Dedo died in September after a two-day storm. The wind blew from the south, bringing sea clouds, grey and ragged like used steel wool, that poured down on the valley and the gusts drove rain against the window planks, making them wet and dripping, with pooling water on the floor of the cell. Outside the camp the trees bent in the heavy wind and the hayfields were flat in the rain. It was a summer storm but it wasn’t warm: the police stayed holed up in their house and grey smoke puffed from the stovepipe and was ripped away flatly in the wind. The cops had reduced their perimeter to a few that huddled in the far corners. In their olive-green ponchos the guards looked like some strange, dark-glistening mushrooms behind the rain. Then, after the storm broke, the drizzle continued for a day and the hills were deep green and misty, and the rusty old silos of the batching factory stood out brightly in their crumbling yellow paint. There were pools of water on the paths between the barracks and tree branches blown across the yard and everything was washed out, fresh and silent.

That afternoon they were corralled into the third barrack. The hundreds of inmates stood waiting, packed in the hall now, happily surprised by the announcement of an additional tea portion. The previous police crew had repurposed the building as a prison canteen. On the low counter the inmates had built, a gas stove was alight. On its grate sat a fifty-litre, boiling aluminium kettle. Maka stood behind the cauldron with another inmate, a ladle in hand, feeling the heat from the little blue flames that flickered underneath.

About the Author

Jani Anttola is a Finnish novelist and a medical doctor. In the 1990s he served in Rwanda with the French military and fought in Bosnia as a soldier of the Bosnian army. His works have been published in the UK and Finland. He has spent most of his adult life abroad, working in Africa, the Middle East and the Asia-Pacific.

Author website: https://www.jani- anttola.com/

Buy links

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Father-One-Jani-Anttola/dp/1915603986

https://www.amazon.com/Father-of-One/dp/1915603986

https://bookguild.co.uk/bookshop/historical/father-of-one/



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Blood in the Shadows by Hawk MacKinney

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Hawk MacKinney will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

When marine buddy, Gulfport, Mississippi Sheriff asks Craige Ingram for help, Ingram and Buckingham Parish patrolman ‘Badger’ Thomas Boback find themselves in the summertime dogdays of the humid Gulf Coast. With crowded beaches and an undermanned staff, a routine investigation soon becomes anything but routine when indescribable body parts start showing up along the surf, in beachfront cabins, half-buried in bayou wetlands, stashed under freeway bridges, and across county lines. Craige’s search for answers to identifying victims and killer among the crowds of tourists and skin-and-sun partygoers soon makes it obvious the victims have no connection with one another—until conflicting DNA results and haunting premonitions resembling the warnings Craige’s grannie often had become part of the investigation. The jigsaw of abandoned cross-kin offspring begin a horrifying Gordian Knot tangle that threatens anyone who approaches the shadowy ancient wreck of an old mansion - an asylum from a lost time.

Read an Excerpt

Craige grabbed a gloved handful of matted briers; pried away the snags off his camo field pants, “County maps show a road once came through here to the main house.” Fletch said, “The only time I was ever out here to Chateau Bois was with my dad; the paths and roads were clear-cut with none of this scrum growth. We could be standing in the middle of the dirt and gravel buggy lane and never know it. From what I can see of the house, it looks about the same. Except for that big oak near the porch in the front yard, there were no trees. Yard stayed clean cut. There was a fancy wrought iron fence. You’d think there’d be what’s left of a gate or fence in here somewhere.”

“Don’t take long in this humidity for rust to take hold of iron and all manner of critters digging and chewing. Mold and big black carpenter ants, wood bees, powder-puff beetles, pesky Argentine ants—untreated fence posts and any wood don’t last long.” Craige shoved against the twist of honeysuckle runners dangling from the scrub oak and sweet gum trees. Yellow Jackets buzzed out from a jostled nest. Craige froze. “Stand still.” Only his eyes moved, “Don’t run. Somewhere in these blackberries we’ve stirred us a Yellow Jacket nest. You run; the whole nest will swarm your butt. Keep still and they’ll buzz around; go on off.” He braced himself for stings that never came. Angry buzzes cleared out; a few hung around, then were gone. After a few more shoves through the overgrowth the house emerged from its leafy shroud and towered in front of them. Fletch stopped, “I don’t remember it being so big. It’s been more than twenty years, maybe longer, since I last saw this place.”

“Must have been quite a showplace in its day.” Craige let his eyes roam the shuttered windows on the upper floors, several loose panels dangled from attic gables. Most of the upper windows were shuttered or boarded. Leaning back, he looked to the roof eaves and overhangs.

“Considerable mildew and wood-rot around the window frames, but it doesn’t look too bad for being empty all these years. Always struck me odd how a house not lived in pines away to rack and ruin as though it knows no one cares about it.” Fletch walked around one side. “Looks the same over this way, too. No sign St. Jacques drove out here, no tracks, none of the weeds and scrub growth knocked down.”

“He would likely have left the car back at the highway. No way he could get a car in here. If he’d tried, the vehicle would still be stuck in that drainage washout we jumped.”

Craige eased a step up onto the boards of the porch. Gingerly added his full weight; felt the rotted boards crackle, but they held. He wasn’t about to let rotten boards set him straddling a ball-busting floor support. Took another step; his boots echoed leaded thuds on the long unused wood.

From the corner window on the second-floor suspicious eyes peeked between the dust-covered spider-webbed slatted shutters. The eyes grew wide, breathing quickened when Craige disappeared from view beneath the rusty tin porch roof. He glanced toward Jeffus, finger held straight against his pursed lips to be still. It was too late to get Jeffus downstairs. Jeffus shuffled slowly into a corner; retreated into the shadows and hunkered. Hardly any daylight peeked through the heavy, age-rotted drapes with only a dim reflection in the smudged broken mirror in the once-upon-a-time stuffy shuttered bedroom.

About the Author:

Hawk MacKinney has authored several award-winning works of fiction that include THE MOCCASIN HOLLOW MYSTERY SERIES and THE CAIRNS OF SAINCTUARIE SCIENCE FICTION SERIES. His historical romance MOCCASIN TRACE was nominated for the prestigious Michael Shaara Award for Excellence in Civil War Fiction and the Writers Notes Book Award.

Cross-genre character-driven plots reflect Hawk MacKinney’s southwest upbringing along the Texas and Oklahoma borders. With postgraduate faculty positions in several medical universities, Hawk MacKinney has taught graduate courses in both the United States and Jerusalem.

Website: http://www.hawkmackinneyauthor.com

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Shadows-Hawk-MacKinney/dp/B0FG47PDSV/ref=sr_1_1

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The Grateful Green Dinosaur by Larissa Pemberton

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Larissa Pemberton will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Percy the green dinosaur explores practicing gratitude with the help of his friend Custard the unicorn, to turn his bad day around by turning his negative thoughts into positive ones. As a society, we often tend to focus on the negative. Teaching children to practice gratitude and shift their mindset toward the positive can lay the foundation for a happier, more fulfilling life.

Read an Excerpt

“Yes, our minds are so much more powerful than you could ever imagine! How about we try and shift your mindset from focusing on the negative things to being grateful for the good things?” suggests Custard.

“We can try that. I don’t like feeling sad,” says Percy.

“What are some things that you love and are grateful for?” asks Custard. “Think of as many things as you can!” they encourage. “When I’m feeling sad, I try and think of all the things that I’m grateful for and what makes me happy, and soon I don’t feel sad anymore! I’m grateful for my pet dog Buddy and that it is summertime. I love summer!”

“Oh, I’m grateful for my mummy and daddy. I’m grateful for the cosy cave that we live in. I’m grateful for my toys, I’m grateful that I’m healthy, and I’m grateful for you!” exclaims Percy excitedly.

About the Author:

Larissa is a devoted mother to three young boys. Her path of self-discovery, shaped by the challenges and joys of motherhood—led her to discovering and embracing the life changing practice of gratitude. By incorporating it into her daily routine, she experienced a profound shift in her mental health and overall happiness. Now, Larissa is passionate in sharing this practice with her sons and other children, believing that learning gratitude at a young age can set the foundation for a life guided by joy and emotional resilience.

Website: https://thegratefulgreendinosaur.com/
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/thegratefulgreendinosaur
Amazon: https://amazon.com/dp/0228829798

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American Odyssey by Michael DeStefano

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Night to Dawn Magazine & Books will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Welcome to It's Raining Books. Why do you write in your genre? What draws you to it?

The time of our lives we call "coming-of-age" tends to stay with us; the effects that peers had on us, and the times that shaped us, travel far into our lives, sometimes farther than we realize.

Name one thing you learned from your hero/heroine.

It's strange to think that one can learn from a character they created. But characters don't come from thin air; they're an unconstrained vision of a romantic past and hopeful future, a butterfly to our caterpillar reality. With Addison Caldwell, I learned that we are no less fragile on our best day than we are on our worst, and that no matter what life throws our way, there's always room for humor.

Do you have any odd or interesting writing quirks, habits or superstitions?

As far as the process of writing is concerned, I’m very disciplined; I begin at 5:00 a.m. and conclude at 8:00 a.m. As for the actual writing? It’s quite quirky. I have a love affair with irony.

Are you a plotter or pantser?

I have a vision for my novels concerning what I want to say, but I don't care much for plots; I like it when a story feels as unpredictable as life itself.

Look to your right – what's sitting there?

To my right is what I hope to see when I turn to my left: The better angels of my nature.

Anything new coming up from you? What?

I have written a sequel to "American Odyssey." It's the same core character ten years later. The inspiration came from reading John Updike's "Rabbit" series.

Do you have a question for our readers?

Will today's readers ever learn the art of reading between the lines? It used to be that matters of social consciousness were encrypted novels; subtle gradations immersed in powerful narratives were what passed as excellent writing. Nowadays, we're told beforehand who the oppressors are, who the marginalized are, where we're supposed to stand, and what conclusions we're supposed to draw.

Set in Philadelphia in the mid-1970s, American Odyssey chronicles the coming-of-age journey of Addison Caldwell, Cillian James, and Joey Brosco. In their quest for independence, our trio encounters the recently widowed Leila Bennett, a former prostitute turned farm owner. For Leila, a sultry summer blossoms into an odyssey of hope and healing; for the boys, work and awakening. Leila—a girl discarded and rescued—teaches the threesome that virtue does not lie in the struggle for independence or what one must sacrifice for its behalf but in love that reinforces enduring friendship.

Read an Excerpt

Joey emerged from the fields and Cillian from the kitchen. We tossed our bags in the bed of Leila’s behemoth pickup, and off we drove. Skipping the bus ride, we headed straight for Pittsburgh and the train station, blasting rockabilly music with the windows rolled down and enjoying our final time of what Leila called “hellraisin’.” As the train chugged west to east through Pennsylvania, I repeatedly asked myself: Who was Leila Bennett? Could she have been just a girl, any girl? Was Leila as common as any one of a million buttercups clustered in an open field and just as forgettable, or was she a four-leaf clover, a rare specimen who, over and over, would compel me to search for her in every crowd everywhere? Was she a young girl in a grown-up girl’s body or a grown-up girl as lost as any child would be when set to wander the vastness of the universe? Air and space: they can prove fickle entities. Not enough of each can kill you, and too much can kill you even faster. But whether we blossom in a vast field or cottage garden, in a way, we all want the same thing: the opportunity to strive for independence while enjoying the strength and comfort of unity. Leila had experienced that aspect of human desire for a time with Aunt Pearl, then later on, for a much briefer spell, with Uncle Dave. I hope, sooner than later, she finds just the right amount of air and space that allows her to bask in the beauty of youth while flourishing as a woman.

About the Author:

Michael DeStefano runs a hairstyling salon, where he has spent the past four decades beautifying the super people of Philadelphia. His past titles include the historical family saga The Gunslinger’s Companion, the comedy/tragedy Waiting for Grandfather, and The Bohemian. You can find these novels and other writings such as his love essays and perspective pieces at his blog site Michael’s Corner.

Blog: http://www.michaelscorner.blog
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/michael.destefano.1654
Twitter: https://x.com/xMichaelsCorner

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/American-Odyssey-Michael-Stefano/dp/1937769895/ref=sr_1_4
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/american-odyssey-michael-de-stefano/1147324924

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Lucky Secrets by B.T. Polcari

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. B.T. Polcari will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Welcome to It's Raining Books. Why do you write in your genre?   What draws you to it?

I absolutely love mysteries. Readers of mystery generally fall into two categories – seekers and solvers. Seekers are reading the book for entertainment, just along for the ride and not really trying to find the killer or solve the puzzle before the end of the book. Solvers, however, are determined to solve the mystery before the end of the book. The sooner the better. As a mystery reader, I am a bigtime solver. I even tag pages with different colored stickers where I think there is a pertinent clue or twist I might want to return to as I work to solve the mystery. And this is why I write cozy mysteries the way I do, because they provide an entertainment value that allows the seeker to chuckle (and at times, laugh out loud) and let the story carry them along, yet also provides the solver with a complex plot that can be solved if they pay attention along the way. The clues are there, just not always obvious. 

What research (or world-building – for fantasy/paranormal/Sci-fi) is required?

I research everything, and I mean, everything. No detail is too small. For example, in my second book, Fire and Ice, I even researched pre-1600s Atlantic hurricane seasons. I do this because I never want someone coming up to me or leaving a comment that something I wrote isn’t correct or possible or remotely feasible. That is my biggest fear every time one of my books is released. So, in the very early stages of the plotting process, I create a “Research” folder to hold all the articles, photos, maps, and similar that I come across as I build out the plot in a document I call my “blueprint.” Some of this research never makes it into the plot or ends up just being background info, and some of it forms the very basic building blocks of the plot. I spend weeks and weeks researching as I lay out the story. For Lucky Secrets, my research folder holds 169MB of data (97 files) plus a second folder with 60MB of photos I used to help visualize the various rooms and spaces of the El Sueño estate where the story is set. For Fire and Ice, the research folder holds 396MB of data (I had a TON of planning to do for this story – read the book and you’ll understand – I can’t say why without giving some things away.) 

Name one thing you learned from your hero/heroine.

Trust your instincts and believe in yourself. 

Do you have any odd or interesting writing quirks, habits or superstitions?

I play music on a CD player when I’m working. When the music stops, I pick up the remote and hit play. Again. And again. And… Yep, I’ll play the same CD for days and usually weeks at a time. The only time I switch out CDs is when a particular song starts playing in my head away from the office, or if I’m no longer as productive with that CD. Then I’ll switch it out and start all over. In fact, today I finally switched out Jet’s Rare Tracks for Eric Clapton’s Unplugged. I played the Jets CD for easily a month. I suspect I’ll switch Clapton on sometime in August. I’ve already hit the play button twice while responding to these questions. 

Are you a plotter or pantser?

I’m a hardcore plotter. I began as a pantser, but after too many dead ends, I switched to detailed plotting. My process starts with weeks of brainstorming and research—sometimes months—then I create my detailed “blueprint” with plot points, subplots, characters, and turning points mapped out to the percentage. I also build a chapter layout and calendar timeline. The blueprint can run 50 pages before I write a single word of the manuscript. Once the structure is in place, I write quickly—sometimes up to 3,500 words a day. 

Look to your right – what’s sitting there?

One of my two white boards on the wall. Beneath it is a desk return connecting my corner computer table with the desk (it is a red-maple desk unit that spans two walls and also includes a credenza). On the return is a Mac laptop (I write on an all-in-one desktop on the corner computer table). 

Anything new coming up from you?  What?

I have several projects under different stages of development. One is a YA book for boys that an agent has expressed an interest in if I write a compelling story. Another is me spinning off my favorite character in the Mauzzy & Me Mystery Series, Mrs. Majelski, into her own mystery series. She’s a blast to write. Think of Elizabeth in Richard Osman’s The Thursday Murder Club series, and then amp up her energy level. That’s Mrs. M. I’m also working on Sara’s next adventure, which will have her hanging out a shingle as a private investigator and opening a whole new world of fun, laughs, and mysteries! 

Do you have a question for our readers?

I have too many to ask. What makes for a compelling mystery? Does there have to be a body? Can there be too much description of a scene (building, room, space) or a character in a mystery? What’s more important – great writing or a great plot?

College student Sara Donovan is in the homestretch of graduating when a mysterious package arrives with an invitation to an exclusive contest. One that will drastically change the winner’s life. Included are unsettling photographs from forgettable chapters in her life and a threatening note strongly suggesting she participate.

With no good options, Sara enters the contest and finds herself at a fabulous mansion up against eight formidable opponents, each with a dark secret and all racing to solve seven levels of riddles and puzzles.

After a contestant’s body is discovered, Sara contemplates dropping out when another package arrives, its chilling contents making clear she’s at the center of a dangerous game with deadly consequences if she quits. But what it doesn’t say is—what happens if she wins?

Read an Excerpt

Karsh Azarian’s pretentious voice came from the end of the table. “It would appear I am now the only courageous one going it alone.” He held a glass of red wine aloft in our direction, a smug grin splashed across his stupid goateed face. “As it should be, I suppose. Fair play and what not.”

Across from me and next to Olivia Fantucci, Scooter Jablonsky’s attention bounced between Karsh, Jimmy, and I. Then he pointed with his half-full drink glass toward Frederick Volkov and Rod Toft, who were seated on our side of the table to Azarian’s right. “Hey, Freddie boy, y’all been quiet tonight. Whatsa matter, your contest off like a herd of turtles?”

Volkov fixed his hound-dog eyes on Scooter. “Quite the contrary, Burl. Tell me, have you and Spencer made it out of your rooms yet, or are you still wrasslin’ with that devilish first clue?” Volkov finished with an amused laugh and clinked glasses with Toft. “Cheers, my friend.”

Scooter was about to blow when Spencer Fernsby inserted himself in the conversation. “Frederick, throughout my career, I have seen your kind come and go. Usually to prison for insider trading and fraud, I might add.” He raised a water glass to his lips. “My goodness, it would be quite difficult to win the contest from a jail cell, don’t you think?”

Volkov jumped to his feet. Even from my vantage point, I could see the blue vein throbbing in his forehead. “Are you threatening me, Fernsby?”

Fernsby smiled warmly, a contrast to his suddenly stone-cold blue-gray eyes. “That certainly wasn’t my intention. My respectful apologies.”

Jimmy whispered in my ear, “The plot thickens.”

About the Author:

B.T. Polcari is a graduate of Rutgers College of Rutgers University, an award-winning mystery author, and a proud father of two wonderful children. He’s a champion of rescue pups (Mauzzy is a rescue), craves watching football and basketball, and, of course, loves reading mysteries. Among his favorite authors are Richard Osman, D.P. Lyle, Frederick Forsyth, and Michael Connelly. He is also an unapologetic fantasy football addict. He lives with his wife in scenic Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Website: http://www.btpolcari.com/
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/btpolcari
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/btpolcari/
X (Twitter): https://x.com/btpolcari
Goodreads Profile: https://www.goodreads.com/btpolcari

Signed Copies: http://www.btpolcari.com
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Secrets-Mauzzy-Me-Mystery/dp/1509261427/ref=sr_1_1
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/lucky-secrets/id6744645288
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lucky-secrets-b-t-polcari/1147214891
Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/p/books/lucky-secrets/41569b963e658847

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The Pyjama Boy by Steven Murphy

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Steven Murphy will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Steven Murphy spent his formative years in Sydney's Redfern.

Abandoned by his mother when only weeks old, his father left him in the care of a cruel, alcoholic stepmother while he himself was in jail. Unbelievably, the child they dubbed the "Pyjama Boy" fought his way through life to achieve his ultimate goal. His story is a poignant and haunting one that captivates its reader from the very beginning and remains long after the book has been closed.

AN INSPIRATIONAL TALE OF SUCCESS AGAINST THE ODDS

Read an Excerpt

There was something odd about the woman driving the yellow station wagon. Her eyes darted around suspiciously. Steve watched her from his patrol car. Her 1988 Sigma moved off from his right at the green lights, to enter the late-night traffic. She had a passenger, a young man with a wispy beard. As they moved, the man looked across at the police car waiting third in line at the red light and then glanced momentarily over his shoulder into the back seat. Sparks spat along the dark surface of the road as he tossed his cigarette out the window of the car.

‘Nervy little punk, ’ remarked the older police constable next to Steve.

‘There’s something odd about both of them in that Sigma...,’ said Steve.

‘Yeah, I think we should have a chat with them.’

As lights turned green and when they were clear of the intersection, Steve pulled past the two vehicles in front of them. The Sigma had increased its pace and was nearly out of view as it turned left almost without slowing. Steve’s pulse rate rose with the revs of the police car. They swung into the side street and passed the Sigma with Red and blue lights flashing, then slowed in front of it. The older policeman put his arm out his window, indicating that the Sigma should pull up at the curb.

While the woman searched a handbag for her licence, Steve noticed that there was someone lying on the back seat of the car. Shining his torch through the window, Steve realised with a jolt that the passenger was gagged, with a tee shirt twisted and pulled tightly into an open mouth. The arms were pulled back and bound at the wrists with a leather belt.

Within minutes a second patrol car had arrived at the scene and the couple were taken into custody, their bound and gagged passenger found to be dead. Steve looked at the victim, a man in his mid-thirties and recognised the face of one who had recently ‘helped him in his enquiries.’ Soon there were detectives and forensic officers examining the car and, as the body was being removed, Steve received orders to drive to an address in a nearby suburban street.

About the Author:

I've never thought of myself as special-just someone who has lived through life's challenges like everyone else. But over time, I've come to see that by sharing my journey, with all its imperfections, I might offer something meaningful to others. Life moves so quickly, and the choices we make shape everything. My hope is that by being honest about my experiences, others might find encouragement or even a little clarity for their own paths.

Speaking at Schools and events across Australia has been an unexpected privilege. These moments aren't about presenting a perfect image; they're about connecting with people on a real, human level. I bring photos, videos, and documents to show the truth of my story-not to impress but to connect. When I speak openly, sharing the vulnerabilities and lessons I've learned, something powerful happens: the audience feels it, and suddenly, it's not just my story-its something they can see themselves in, too.

If you would like to have Steve speak to your School, group or organization he can be contacted through email: stevenmurphy_11@bigpond.com

You can connect with Steven Murphy through a number of platforms to learn more about his story and work.

Website: https://thepyjamaboy.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/stevenmurphyauthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/56696685.Steven_Murphy

Book Trailer" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUopXLOFQU4

Visit his website to view the one bedroom flats he uses to live in and show his living conditions as described in the book.

Feel free to reach out — Steven is always happy to connect with readers and share more about his journey.

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My Bully, My Aunt, and Her Final Gift by Harold Phifer

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Harold Phifer will be awarding a $15 Starbucks gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Aunt Kathy made his childhood miserable—now her funeral might just set him free.

In this wickedly funny and deeply honest memoir, Harold Phifer revisits the chaos of growing up under the thumb of a domineering aunt who ruled with twisted wisdom and unpredictable wrath. As he plans her awkward memorial, Hal finds healing in the most unexpected place: her absence. My Bully, My Aunt, and Her Final Gift is a heartfelt journey through trauma, truth, and the strange gifts we inherit from those who hurt us most.

 

Read an Excerpt

The closer I got, the more definite the sounds of dishes breaking, kids playing, and infants testing their lungs, and TVs watching themselves became. Jerry and his wife had separated some time ago. Regardless, he was left with four adult daughters still in the nest. Obviously, the girls brought kids of their own to the mix. But everything unfolding before me appeared chaotic on the other side of that threshold. That entire scene grew larger and more intimidating with every timid step I took.

About the Author:

Harold Phifer was born in the rebellious South of Columbus, Mississippi. As a kid, he worked the streets, hustled the neighbors, and bused tables at bars he didn’t belong in. After graduating from Caldwell High School, he went on to earn degrees from Mississippi State and Jackson State Universities. He became an Air Traffic Controller in Memphis, Tennessee, but after 23 years, he sought purpose elsewhere—working as an international contractor alongside soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. After narrowly escaping the Taliban takeover in 2021, he took refuge at Guantanamo Bay and resumed his writing while continuing his work as a controller. In 2024, he returned to the Middle East, where he continues to write about life, love, and the human spirit.

Twitter: https://x.com/hephifer
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/harold-phifer-093b4091/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HaroldPhifer2024
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/haroldphifer2024/
Website: https://riseandread.com/

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Theirs Until Always by Mae K. Knight

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Mae K. Knight will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Adam:

Men like me don’t get happy endings.
When my demons talk to me, I talk back.
I heeded their call when they demanded my parents’ death.
I even listened when they ordered my own.
And they nearly won.
Until her.
One night changed my life. Then I lost it all. I lost her.
Now, I’ll do anything to get my sunshine back.
But can a sinner like me be willing to share after learning I’m not the only one craving her light?

Jordyn:

When a man shows you his red flags, run.
But running from Adam is easier said than done.
When he re-enters my life, my world implodes with the secrets he’s keeping.
Can I forgive him and learn to live in his shadows? To be the light he thinks I am?
Or will his darkness consume me?

Abel:

Witnessing your twin nearly die, hardens something in you.
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Adam breathing.
As kids, he’d protected me, even though that was my job as the older brother.
Now, it’s my turn to protect him.
You can run little sunshine, but you won’t get far.
If Jordyn’s what my brother needs to keep his demons at bay, then I’ll claim her for us.
She’ll be ours, always.

Read an Excerpt

This place really does serve a mean cup of Joe.

I lift the delicate-looking porcelain cup to my lips, letting my lashes flutter against my cheeks as I take another hearty sip of my mocha latte. Licking my lips, I glance around the bustling coffee shop, sunlight bathing my fellow caffeine fiends, kissing the glass enclosure showcasing treats and the checkered tile flooring. Behind the green counter, four uniformed bodies move in sync to crank out orders as people filter in and out of the building.

I wait, settling back into the booth I’d snagged early, only moments after the shop opened. I know Jordyn will be strutting her bubbly self through the frosted glass doors at any moment and there’s not a damn thing Adam can do about me intercepting her, unwilling as he is to blow our cover.

But I am fixing this, dammit.

I’ve wiled the hours away on my phone, gathering intel on the next assignment I plan to take as soon as things are cleared up here.

A vacation with your twin and girlfriend wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I freeze, sucking back air as the woman in question strolls in, oblivious to my position at the back of the shop and at the turn of my own thoughts.

My girlfriend?

No. Jordyn is Adam’s. He’s said so, and I’ve respected that, chalking up my moments with her to brotherly duties. My twin needed me and… God, look at the way that dress rises and falls from the delicious jiggle of her ass. I swipe at my mouth in the event drool slipped past my lips.

About the Author Mae K. Knight is a self-published author based in Louisiana, who enjoys writing “trauma boys” as her readers coined them, BIPOC FMCs that look like her and fast, smutty stories that leave you craving for more. When not writing, she’s reading monster romances penned by her fellow indie authors, studying for her nursing degree, or lifting heavy weights in the gym to feel like a bad bitch on a competition platform.

If you want to read more of her work, check out her website: https://maeknight.carrd.co, buy signed paperbacks directly from her: https://mackandmae.shop or go directly to her Amazon page for her KU titles: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Mae-K.-Knight/author/B0D3674KWR. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61560507610143
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/49729390.Mae_K_Knight
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