Monday, November 10, 2025

Verb Tenses by M.G. da Mota



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. M G da Mota will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Thirty-four-year-old Raquel Whiteman has it all: beauty, a high-powered career, a very rich fiancĂ©e, a loving brother and a stepfather she adores. Life is good. Until her mother commits suicide. Clearing the paraphernalia of her mother’s life she finds old photographs and journals which plunge her into a search for the truth about her real father and early childhood, forsaking everything including her engagement to travel a path she is powerless to resist. Like a giant wave the past travels fast and comes crashing down on her, flooding her mind with incomprehensible fragmented memories and continuous questions – What? Why? Why?


Read an Excerpt

Ken’s journal, December 2017

In hindsight, I would have acted differently. Hindsight is a great thing. It’s a shame we don’t have it when we most need it. We would then be able to weigh our decisions and ensure the future wouldn’t be negatively impacted. As it stands, regret sets in and regret is a useless feeling, as it always arrives too late. I wonder why we even have it within the range of our human emotions. With her strict Catholic upbringing my darling Matilde would have said that God decided humans needed to feel regret to enable them to eventually redeem themselves of their sins. She would have added that we are not to question God’s reasons, as we don’t understand them. Sadly, I don’t believe in God. I believe in Matilde and my love for her. I believe in my children and the people I care about, which is probably the whole list of my beliefs though actually that is not strictly true. I believe in science and the scientific approach. It is logical and based on fact and evidence.

All these thoughts however are irrelevant. They are just ramblings of an old man with too much time on his hands.

I continue to worry about my children even though they are now middle-aged and can fend for themselves very well. But I suppose that once a dad, always a dad.

It is a warm day for December though grey and wet. I’m sitting in the conservatory, looking at nothing in particular. I’ve tried to read but cannot concentrate. I can hear the noise from the television. It is tuned into some sports channel. Not that I care about it; it’s all white noise to me but it’s a company of sorts. A fake company of course but I got used to leaving it on all day after Matilde died and, somehow, I feel the need to hear it in the background. I dozed earlier, listening to its distant, monotonous sound. I dreamed that Matilde appeared at the door and called me in for a cup of tea. Then I woke up and of course there was no-one. Just the endless white noise of the TV. I decided to write down some of my thoughts after Matilde was gone from me forever. It’s not for anyone to read but writing my thoughts makes me feel less alone in this house. In hindsight, as mentioned earlier, I’d have done things differently.

About the Author

M G da Mota is Margarida Mota-Bull’s pen name for fiction. She is a Portuguese-British novelist with a love for classical music, ballet and opera. Under her real name she also writes reviews of live concerts, CDs, DVDs and books for two classical music magazines on the web: MusicWeb International and Seen and Heard International. She is a member of the UK Society of Authors, speaks four languages and lives in Sussex with her husband. Her website, called flowingprose.com, contains photos and information.

Website: https://www.flowingprose.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/m.g.da.mota
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mgdamota/
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/margarida-mota-bull

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Verb-Tenses-M-G-Mota-ebook/dp/B09ZFB4NDL

Thursday, November 6, 2025

The Tomato Jam Murder by Meg Benjamin



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



Roxy’s spending her summer with burros and jam, but there’s a murderer in the mountains.

It’s burro racing season in the Rockies, and Roxy Constantine is all for it. Now if she can come up with a good recipe for tomato jam, her summer will be complete. But when Roxy finds a body on the burro race course, she’s suddenly plunged into a murder investigation. And when her innocent friend is accused of killing her ex, Roxy must challenge a corrupt police chief who wants to shut her up. Now she needs to find the real killer and save a neighboring town from a plot to ruin its mountain magic.


Read an Excerpt

Kennedy leaned close, eyes bright with malice. It’s hard to loom over someone as tall as me, but he was giving it his best shot. “You don’t get it, do you? This is none of your business. You don’t even live here. And you sure as hell don’t have any right to be sticking your nose into a police investigation. If I find out you’re stirring things up around here, I’ll throw you in a cell so fast your head will be spinning when you hit the floor.”

I was pretty sure he couldn’t do that legally. On the other hand, if he threw me into one of his cells, it might take me quite a while to get out of it. Logic argued for caution. Still, I hate being pushed around by guys who don’t have any right to push me around.

“All I’ve done is pass along information I’ve heard to people who might be interested. So far as I know, that doesn’t break any laws.”

“You. Don’t. Live. Here.” Kennedy snarled. “Like I said, this is none of your business. Keep out of it and keep your mouth shut.”

I gritted my teeth as I stared at him, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t get me into deeper trouble.

Kennedy straightened, his gaze still burning, then swept one arm across the surface of the counter, sending jars of jam flying in all directions. I glared at him, furious and horrified.

The corners of his mouth edged up ever so slightly. “Oops.”

About the Author



Meg Benjamin is an award-winning author of romance and cozy mysteries. Meg’s cozy mystery series, Luscious Delights from Wild Rose Press, concerns a jam-making sleuth based in the mythical small town of Shavano, Colorado. Her Konigsburg series is set in the Texas Hill Country and her Salt Box and Brewing Love trilogies are set in the Colorado Rockies (all are available from Entangled Publishing and from Meg’s indie line). Along with romance and cozies, Meg is also the author of the paranormal Ramos Family trilogy from Berkley InterMix and the Folk trilogy from Meg’s indie line. Meg’s books have won numerous awards, including an EPIC Award, a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Holt Medallion from Virginia Romance Writers, the Beanpot Award from the New England Romance Writers, the Carly Crown Jewel of Books from the Mid-America Romance Authors, and the Award of Excellence from Colorado Romance Writers.

Personal Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1
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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Meg-Benjamin/author/B0030F12FY
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@megbenjamin1396
Website: http://www.MegBenjamin.com/

Amazon buy link: https://amzn.to/4oj93e5

Tuesday, October 28, 2025

Extraterrestrial Noir by Rich Leder



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Any weird things you do when you’re alone?

Not that I’m aware of. I’ve been a writer all of my adult life. So I imagine I’m weird in ways that people who are not writers are not weird. Then again, I imagine those people are weird in ways I’m not. We’re all weird in the end. Hey, you know what? That’s why every character in my books is at least a little weird. Epiphany anyone?

What is your favorite quote and why?

I don’t have a favorite quote, per se. I’d have to go with everything Vonnegut has written. And everything Robbins has written. And everything Roth has written. And everything Palahniuk has written. And plenty of things Elmore has written. And tons of the things that Stephen and Richard and Carl and Christopher have written … shall I, must I go on?

Who is your favorite author and why?

All those guys I just mentioned. Plus, add John Irving to that list. And Donald Westlake. And John D. MacDonald and more than that too.

What, in your opinion, are the most important elements of good writing?

Tough question. I would say “authenticity” is critical. In the sense that if the writer isn’t all honestly in on his/her characters and action and world, then how in the heck can the reader get engaged. I would say “clarity” is critical. Unless the point of the moment or character or plot or subplot or line of dialogue or whatever is to be opaque, then what in the world can be gained by confusing the reader? And I would say “confidence” is critical. If the writer doesn’t believe in their own sentence structure, their own ability to tell a tale, then that, what should we call it, that weakness will permeate the story. So, yeah, authenticity, clarity, and confidence. I’ll go with those elements for now.

Where did you get the idea for this book?

No idea, truly. Maybe I was looking for a way to satirize the suburbs. Maybe I was looking for an alien I had never seen depicted before. Somehow I landed on a molecule manipulating psychopath antagonist with a thing for film noir and tequila. From there it was a half-step to a 12-year-old, uber-genius protagonist.



A PSYCHO-CRIMINAL EXTRATERRESTRIAL ON A SUBURBAN CUL-DE-SAC

A FAMILY ON THE BRINK OF ALL-ENCOMPASSING INSOLVENCY

A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD UBER-GENIUS DAUGHTER IN THE LINE OF FIRE

CAN SHE SAVE THE FAMILY, NOT TO MENTION THE PLANET?

An extraterrestrial crashes into a suburban cul-de-sac Colonial, absorbs every binary bit of information ever chronicled in all of human history, rearranges its molecules and presents itself as a couple of late and legendary film noir superstars, then immediately displays an appetite for debauchery, depravity, decadence, and destruction, seducing the family into its psychopathic criminal orbit with irresistible Hollywood panache, alluring sexual charisma, and inconceivable intergalactic powers.…all in the name of saving the family from their emotional, marital, and financial ruin.

But uber-genius-daughter Mike Devine figures out fast that the extraterrestrial’s principal plan is to employ its unfathomable interplanetary muscle and implode the planet. Which leaves the fate of her family, not to mention the world, in her twelve-year-old hands.


Read an Excerpt

“Forget the meteor,” Peter said. “Where’s the hole?”

“There it is,” Lazlo said. But he was pointing at the ceiling, at the same size and shaped hole that ran in a line at a forty-five-degree angle through the house. The cul-de-sac husbands all looked up at the hole, through the dining room, the master bedroom, and the attic to the sky. Only Maggie followed the path down to its conclusion.

“What in the world is that?” she said.

And then the room went silent, as if all the air had been sucked out of the house through the succession of small rectangular holes.

Connie and Maggie had decided on white oak floors when they’d finished the basement, and then covered them with colorful Karastan rugs. Lying on a deep-red-and-brown rug, five feet in front of the giant flat-screen television, surrounded by debris from the various ceilings and floors that followed it down as it smashed through the house, was a silver box.

It was, like the holes it created, the size and shape of a Frye cowboy boot box, but smoother along the edges. Perfectly smooth, in fact. It wasn’t particularly polished, more matte finish than shiny, and was completely unmarked. There was simply no evidence whatsoever that it had burned through the atmosphere and smashed through a suburban Colonial at a million miles an hour.

“It’s like somebody bought a pair of boots and left the box on the floor,” Bill said.

“Doesn’t look like it came crashing down,” Peter agreed.

“Looks like it came in for a landing,” Maggie said.

About the Author:



Rich Leder has been a working writer for more than three decades. His credits include eight novels for Laugh Riot Press and 19 produced movies—television films for CBS, Lifetime, and Hallmark and feature films for Lionsgate, Paramount Pictures, Tri-Star Pictures, Longridge Productions, and Left Bank Films.

He’s been the lead singer in a Detroit rock band, a restaurateur, a Little League coach, an indie film director, a literacy tutor, a magazine editor, a screenwriting coach, a wedding consultant (it’s true), a PTA board member, a HOA president, a commercial real estate agent, and a visiting artist for the UNCW Film Studies Department, all of which, it turns out, was grist for the mill.

WEBSITE: https://www.richleder.com
AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FBLKSK2W
BOOKSHOP.ORG https://bookshop.org/p/books/extraterrestrial-noir-rich-leder/22774708

Monday, October 27, 2025

Toil and Trouble by Jennifer Patricia O'Keeffe, Lynn Hubbard, Cindy Lewis Smith, James Ryan, Julian Christian, and Jae El Foster



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The authors 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.



The brew is hot and bubbling over with romance and terror in this twistedly beautiful anthology that welcomes the darkness of horror and the temptation of love's veiled promises. Six remarkable tales from six incredible authors fill this book of dark shadows and ancient whispers.

Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble - by Jennifer Patricia O'Keeffe: Enchanted pastries and spell-brewed coffee make Esmerelda's sugar-dusted counter the city's most coveted haunt—until a dangerously charming newcomer slips into her shop, immune to her magic and unraveling her carefully guarded world. As his witch-hunter heritage threatens to burn her legacy to ash, Esmerelda finds herself torn between the threat of revenge from the witch hunter's ancestors and the intoxicating truth of the connection that they share.

Silverwood - by Lynn Hubbard: A lonely rancher's daughter finds her isolated Wyoming homestead upended when an amber-eyed stranger ignites a mud-splattered passion that defies reason—until his supernatural secret and the vengeful ranch hands hunting her force her to choose between the man who saves her and the monster who might destroy her. Torn between fierce protectors and forbidden desire, she must trust the very darkness that could shatter her world to survive the wild frontier's deadliest threats.

Ivy, Lichens and Wallflowers - by James Ryan: Marketing executive Hilda finds solace from her stifling corporate life and overbearing past in the quiet companionship of Miriam, a mysterious 19th-century marble statue in a city micro-park, only to discover their connection transcends stone when Miriam begins answering her handwritten notes through cryptic poetry left in return. As their forbidden connection deepens into an intoxicating dream-bound romance, Hilda uncovers Miriam's supernatural secret: she's a cursed thaumaturge sustained by stolen life force, forcing Hilda to confront whether love can survive the devastating cost of keeping her alive.

A Mirror to Die For - by Cindy Lewis Smith: A desperate woman finds solace in an antique mirror that whisks her nightly to 1880s Arizona, where a charming outlaw named Johnny Ringo fulfills every fantasy—until her jealous fiancĂ© shatters the glass and vanishes, leaving her trapped in an asylum screaming that he is the real monster, a man who shouldn't exist: Dr. John Henry Holliday, the gambler who killed Ringo a century ago. Now, with "MPR" carved into her cell walls and time itself unraveling, she'll stop at nothing to prove her sanity by proving time travel is real—even if it means unleashing the very darkness that destroyed her.

Flight 1031: Cosmic Turbulence - by Julian Christian: Diplomatic courier Sarah Martinez boards Flight 1031 expecting routine turbulence, not a Halloween dimensional rift that strands her at Germania International Airport—where the Greater German Reich has ruled since 1943 and perfected technology to harvest souls from parallel realities through consciousness-scanning machinery that pulses with seventeen-beat rhythms. Now trapped in a terminal that breathes like a living organism, Sarah must navigate a world where every passenger hides a secret and her resistance could either save her timeline or doom infinite versions of humanity to eternal enslavement in a Reich that spans all dimensions.

Dream a Little Dream - by Jae El Foster: After a near-death car crash rewires her brain, Sarah's nightmares bleed into reality: sugar on the counter forms glyphs, bats appear out of nowhere in broad daylight, and her own hands betray her—while the velvet-eyed stranger from her dreams appears in her waking hours, his urgency growing as Halloween's veil thins. Now, with her reality twisting into something surreal and an ancient language hijacking her voice, she must confront a dark truth: her soul isn't hers to keep, and the man who saved her in death is the very entity hunting her in life.


Read an Excerpt from ‘Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble’ by Jennifer Patricia O’Keeffe

She drew a slow breath, the scent of ozone clinging to her skin. From the oak block, she took a pewter ladle and a vial stoppered with black cork. Dipped the ladle into the cauldron. Poured the sludge—thick as clotting blood—into the vial. Corked it tight. A flick of her wrist, and the vial vanished—reappearing nestled in her handbag across the room.

"If the spell doesn’t work," she murmured to the empty cabin, her voice steady as a surgeon’s hand, "then I’ll make him drink its nectar. That… so much worse than death." She peeled off the battle gown, slid into soft blue jeans, and pulled a cream sweater over her head, the wool catching static against her skin. Then, stepped into sensible loafers.

Now ready for her date with the witch hunter, Esmerelda smoothed the cream sweater over her ribs, the wool soft as a lover’s whisper against her skin. She inhaled slowly, counting the creaks of the cabin’s old bones—the groan of floorboards, the sigh of wind through pine boughs—to steady her pulse. But the quiet shattered with three sharp raps against the stone fireplace. Not wood. Stone. Flames erupted in a violent bloom, leaping toward the ceiling like grasping hands, their light bleaching the bone-lamps to ghostly white.

She knew this sound. This fire. Three raps meant the veil had torn. Not a knock at the door—but through it. From below. The hearth’s warmth turned to furnace heat, searing her cheeks even from ten paces. Ash swirled in the air, thick as funeral incense. She did not move. Did not breathe. Only watched as the flames coiled inward, collapsing into a frame of blackened stone—a doorway where none had been.

Before her very eyes, the stone frame solidified, its edges sharp as broken tombstones. A door of living fire filled the archway, its surface rippling like molten glass. It swung inward with a groan that had no source—no hinges, no wood, only the slow creak of reality bending. The room plunged into near-darkness as the flames dimmed, revealing not the cabin’s back wall but an abyss of swirling black fog. From that void, a shape drifted forth—a shade no taller than a child, its form shifting like smoke caught in moonlight.

It moved without sound, gliding over the floorboards until it hovered inches from Esmerelda. No eyes. No mouth. Only a deeper darkness within the dark. She felt its chill before it touched her—a cold that seeped through wool and skin, freezing the marrow of her bones. Then it surged forward, pouring into her like ink into water. Her breath hitched as shadow filled her lungs, her veins, her very thoughts. She stood rigid, a vessel for the dead.

Through this melding of shadow and body, the message took root. Not words. Knowledge. A truth that bloomed in her skull like a black rose: her spell had not bound Keith’s will—it had bound his heart. The Latin she’d woven—"Venator, venator, locum tuum nosce"—was no hunter’s snare. It was a lover’s noose. Every syllable had knotted their fates tighter than graveyard vines. Love spells ended in madness. In blood. In souls devoured by the one they clung to.

Her knees buckled. She caught herself on the oak block, knuckles white against the ancient wood. Impossible. The Book had listed it under "Protection and Manipulation." Not love. Never love. She clawed at the shade within her, pouring her thoughts into the void: It was meant to trap him! To make him confess! But the shade was a courier, not a confidant. It carried no replies. Only the warning, sharp as a scalpel: You have tethered his heart to yours. Now it beats for you. And hearts that beat for witches… always stop.

As the shade withdrew, it took no gentleness with her. It ripped free like a hook from flesh, leaving her hollowed and gasping. Esmerelda crumpled to the floor, her vision swimming as the cabin’s rafters tilted. She watched, dazed, as the shade drifted backward through the stone doorway, the fire-door sighing shut behind it. The hearth collapsed inward—a final puff of ash, the scent of brimstone thick as a funeral shroud. Then silence. Only the lingering sting of sulfur in her throat.

Buy the Book

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FS7DXSXX
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1849875
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/toil-and-trouble-jae-el-foster/1148244179
Apple:https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6752260026
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/toil-and-trouble-17

Friday, October 24, 2025

Scenes from a Song by Susan Sloate



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Susan Sloate 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.

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

I’m a multi-genre author (which basically means I couldn’t make up my mind), so I tend to write whatever genre my story idea demands. Right now I’m in the middle of three different middle-grade book series—one for boys, two for girls—one is fantasy, the other two are mystery—but I wanted to write those stories, and the story dictated the genre. I’ve written nonfiction (biographies, histories) and lots of fiction (girls’ series fiction, boys’ series fiction, love stories, historical/alternative fiction, and more). It just depends on the story.

What research is required?

Mostly I research the historical stuff, and with my novel FORWARD TO CAMELOT (about the JFK assassination, co-authored with Kevin Finn), it got really heavy, but in the process we found several wonderful true historical bits that no one else writing about JFK had ever used, so we used them. All these years after we published it, I still have most of that research in my head; it comes in handy when I do a podcast interview on a JFK-related channel! I also did a lot of research for my biography of Amelia Earhart, visited the Oklahoma City archives of the 99’s, the women’s flying group she founded, and worked with people at the National Archives on information about her last flight. That was wonderful.

Name one thing you learned from your hero/heroine.

Jimmy is the nominal hero of SCENES FROM A SONG, since he’s the guy who writes the song in the title. I’ve realized since finishing it that the real ‘hero’ of the novel is the song itself, but since you asked…

What Jimmy taught me in the writing is how powerful music can be, especially in troubling times of your life. It’s amazing, the power of a song to lift your spirits and give you hope, and because he himself experiences this, it helped me to get on board with it, too.

The story was inspired by a YouTube clip of Paul McCartney performing “Please Please Me” to close one of his concerts, and when I watched it, people were crying in the audience. I hadn’t realized a single song could have that kind of power, but it made a real impression on me.

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

Yes, I collect notebooks—the prettiest ones I can find—and then I tend to not use them, because they’re too pretty, in some way, for my writing projects (this on top of also having a great writing software I use all the time to take notes). Eventually I break down and open one up and then feel glad I started it, but when it comes to the next one, I shy away again.

Are you a plotter or pantser?

I thought I was a plotter, but at times like during Nanowrimo, I’m more of a pantser.

Look to your right – what’s sitting there?

Two huge oak bookcases—8 feet high, 8 feet across—filled with books. I had them made years ago and will never live anywhere without them.

Anything new coming up from you? What?

I’m adapting an old novel into a musical! This is the most exciting and scary thing I’ve ever done—script and lyrics—and I have great hopes for it. We’ll see what happens!

Do you have a question for our readers?

What kinds of books are YOU looking to read next? I may have something in my stack of unfinished projects that would suit you perfectly!

On Halloween Eve, 1961, in his dingy Bronx walkup apartment, seventeen-year-old Jimmy Welton hears the opening notes of a song in his head. Jimmy’s still mourning his firefighter father, who taught him to play the guitar but recently died in a house fire, leaving his family destitute. Jimmy takes this song, about all he misses from his life now, to the New York amusement park where he works after school. There, he meets Mark Morgan, a rebellious teen with his own band, who eventually invites Jimmy to join them. And the rest is rock'n roll history...

Their band, The GooseBumps, become a worldwide phenomenon, and the songs they write and sing together become the backbone of rock musical history. And the song Jimmy first heard on Halloween, "Wrapped in Gauze", becomes the song that not only comforts him in that terrible time but also comforts others: Victoria, recently divorced and dealing with an out-of-nowhere family tragedy; Carolyn, whose final flippant words to someone in pain can't be taken back; and Jack, battling back from unimaginable loss with the help of his cheeky therapist and a song he thinks he hates.

SCENES FROM A SONG is the story of a song that makes us smile, that breaks our hearts, that stays with us forever, and the very special band that started it all.


Read an Excerpt

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, then took a good slug and felt it burn down into his stomach. Only then would he trust him-self to strum the first chords of “Bawk Bawk”. He’d written it in a sardonic mood one day, when he heard Debby playing “The Twist” on her record player and wanted to make fun of it. It had never occurred to him he’d end up playing it for a bunch of guys in a seedy bar after midnight.

Jimmy took a deep breath and launched into the song, speaking as well as singing it. After he’d written it, he’d realized he could even dance it a little, too, and he made gestures as well:

Imitating a chicken, clicking his heels together, clapping his hands. His father had told him he was a natural showman, so he gave it his all.

When he began to ham it up in the dance part, the boys be-gan to laugh, and they laughed right through to the end. Jimmy finished with the high whistle he’d learned the previous summer, and a final click of his heels before bowing to them.

Mark, Kellen and Hammy applauded enthusiastically, and Mick, who’d come back to see if they wanted another round, said to him, “Terrific, fella. Funniest thing I’ve seen since ‘The Ed Sullivan Show’. You a comic?”

“Are you kidding? He’s a musician!” Mark roared. “A great musician! And ‘Bawk Bawk’s a number-one hit if ever I heard one!”

He jumped onto the floor and imitated Jimmy, clicking his heels together, arms flailing like a chicken, and making the ‘bawk bawk’ sound. In a minute, Hammy and Kellen were following him.

“Play it again, Jimmy!” Mark shouted. “So we can dance it this time!”

About the Author:
SUSAN SLOATE is the author or co-author of more than 25 published books. This includes 3 editions of Forward to Camelot, a time-travel thriller about the JFK assassination that became a #6 Amazon bestseller, was honored in 3 literary competitions and was optioned by a Hollywood company for film production. She also wrote the autobiographical Broadway novel Stealing Fire, which became a #2 Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release, and Realizing You (with Ron Doades), for which she invented a new genre: the self-help novel.

Susan has also written young-adult fiction and non-fiction, including the children’s biography Ray Charles: Find Another Way, which won the silver medal in the 2007 Children’s Moonbeam Awards. Mysteries Unwrapped: The Secrets of Alcatraz led to her 2009 appearance on the TV series MysteryQuest for The History Channel. She has also been a sportswriter and a screenwriter, edited the popular Kyle & Corey young-adult book series, man-aged two political campaigns and founded an author’s festival to promote student literacy in her hometown outside Charleston, SC. She has appeared in multiple volumes of WHO’S WHO IN AMERICA, WHO’S WHO IN ENTERTAINMENT and WHO’S WHO AMONG AMERICAN WOMEN.

Website: https://susansloate.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SusanSloateAuthor
X.com: http://www.twitter.com/Susan_Sloate
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/susan_sloate/

The book will be $0.99 during the tour: https://amzn.to/3JGG198

Thursday, October 23, 2025

What It's Like to be Me by Elizabeth Ann O'Handley



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Elizabeth Ann O'Handley 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.



Well, one thing is for certain: everyone will feel something different after reading What It's Like to Be Me!

Why you ask? It is simply because every single one of us is completely unique; that is what makes us who we are.

The young girl in this book helps us understand that the journey of self-identification is not always easy. In some cases, maybe we just have not given it much thought. I mean, how often do we check in with ourselves? At times we are more focused on what others may think about us, while we are truly unaware of what we even think about ourselves.

With reflection, it is sometimes necessary, and useful, to see ourselves objectively.

The young girl in What It's Like to Be Me has to look within to find herself. Personal growth will usually assist us in accepting the reality of who we really are. As life changes and we grow through experience, it is up to us to be the best versions of ourselves.

Living your truth is a personal suggestion for making things a little easier when embarking on the journey of knowing exactly who you are. Every experience will change us, maybe a little, or maybe a lot. Who you are going to be in this world starts with you!

I wish you all a wonderful journey!
Truth, love, and respect always,
Elizabeth Ann O'Handley


Read an Excerpt

Preface

The world we live in can be unpredictable. Life will challenge us and give us reasons to question many things. Life may make us feel uncertain of a decision … make us feel uncertain of ourselves.

Let us help one another affirm our purpose so we can live in a world where we feel more in tune with ourselves.

Life is so beautiful, precious, and filled with meaning. Let us start by finding ourselves and then watch that beauty grow.

May we all find what we are looking for.

About the Author: What It's Like to Be Me is Elizabeth Ann O'Handley's second book. It was inspired by a visit to her hometown of Glace Bay, in the province of Nova Scotia.

Elizabeth graduated from Cape Breton University with a B.A. in 2005, and received a diploma in Acupuncture from the College of Traditional Chinese Medicine Practitioners & Acupuncturists of British Columbia in 2011.

In realization of many things, Elizabeth is forever grateful for the love she continues to receive from her family and friends. She reflects on her experiences with a humble heart, and is very emotional about being true to oneself.

Elizabeth is convinced that storytelling can be an effective tool in helping anyone find their path.

Elizabeth is committed to creating positive content, in hopes that it will have an impact on all readers of her work.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/47332435.Elizabeth_Ann_O_Handley
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/What-Its-Like-Be-Me-ebook/dp/B0FBX92WG4/ref=sr_1_1wuat

Wednesday, October 22, 2025

Look Over Your Shoulder by Sharon Overend



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sharon Overend 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.



A haunting, lyrical exploration of family, silence and the secrets we inherit.

Years of avoidance and blame have left the McLaughlin clan fractured and ill-equipped to face the critical illness of one of their own. When long buried memories of a neighborhood child’s death while in their care resurface the family truly begin to unravel.

Told in alternating voices, Look Over Your Shoulder, reveals how secrets ripple through generations, and how healing begins when someone finally dares to speak the truth.

Read an Excerpt

ANNE

I slipped away. In slow motion, I raised one foot after the other, one step at a time, upstairs. My limbs now disconnected from my body, my head bobbing in a black fog, I drifted across the hall and toward my bedroom. I lay on top of the covers but dragged a throw over my hip.

The buzz of distant conversations crawled into the room, and my window shook each time the front door opened or closed. Knuckles rapped, an empty hanger slapped against the door panel, the buzz amplified, feet shuffled forward, a presence lingered, a hand touched my arm, a voice whispered.

“Mom.”

I said nothing until her feet shuffled back toward the door.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed into the pillow seconds before the hanger again rattled, and the hum of voices roared back into the room. I wasn’t sure whether I’d wanted her to hear me or not.

“For what?” She had heard.

“For resenting you.”

The weighty creak of floorboards, a car engine idling, a woman’s laughter, a child’s shriek, a toilet flush.

“You’re tired,” Marilyn said, now close enough to touch me. “Sleep.”

“You scare me,” I said, still telling the pillow, not her. “Your strength and your capacity for forgiveness are things I’ve never experienced before. But I have to know. Have you ever forgotten?” Shame had stalked me my whole life, a shadow dancing across my peripheral vision, now fully in view.

“We’ll talk in the morning.” She lifted the fringed edge of the blanket, pulled it over my shoulder, and tucked it beneath my chin. A blue spark of static electricity sprang between her fingers and my face.

About the Author:


SHARON OVEREND, is an award-winning author whose fiction, creative non-fiction and poetry has appeared in the Canadian, American and British literary journals and anthologies including Antigonish Review, Avalon, Descant, Grain, Matter of Time, Spirit of the Hills, Surfacing, Wild Words, Word Weaver, UK’s Dream Catcher, CafeLit, The Best of CafeLit and A Coup of Owls.

Sharon and her husband live on a 156- rural acre property in Ontario, Canada where she has found inspiration for many of her projects.

Website: http://www.sharonoverend.blog
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/sharonoverend
Instagram: http://www.Instagram.com/sharonoverend3971
Bluesky: http://www.Sharonoverend77.bsky.social

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/LOOK-OVER-SHOULDER-Sharon-Overend-ebook/dp/B0FR2P6SWY/ref=sr_1_1