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Women's Fiction
Date Published: June 2019
Publisher: Riverpoint Press
Laura Beckman’s comfortable suburban life would be perfect but for her daughter. Four years earlier, Brooke abandoned her husband and her own young daughter to run off with a musician. Now back home with her tail between her legs, Brooke’s self-loathing boils over in the face of her mother’s unrelenting condemnation.
Laura’s world is turned upside down after witnessing the long, painful death of her husband. In the search for a better version of herself, she creates the Chocolate Shop which grants terminally ill patients one last wish (e.g returning to the Rockette stage, having sex one last time, even skydiving). Laura then lovingly helps her clients slip away to a peaceful death. Laura must dodge the police who suspect she's committing second-degree murder, and an ex-wife of a client consumed with collecting on an insurance policy. Her relationship with her daughter flips as Brooke becomes the one doing the condemning: “I may have made many mistakes in my life but there’s one thing I can say. I never murdered anybody.”
As Laura comes to grips with the ethical, moral, and legal dimensions of what she's doing, she worries that her strained relationship with her daughter will never be repaired and wonders whether she can ever find love again. She meets Arlo Massey--brash, flamboyant, someone who couldn't care less about what other people think--the complete opposite of the always appropriate Laura Beckman. Arlo disrupts Laura's already tumultuous life. She finds him despicable.
And yet . . .
About the Author
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J. J. Spring is a pseudonym for a successful author who writes in another genre. J. J. lives in Florida with a spouse and a rambunctious poodle named Handsome Jack.
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Non Fiction / Body, Mind, Spirit / Inspiration & Personal Growth
Date Published: November 5th 2019
Publisher : Acorn Publishing
Our children are our hope, our future, our everything. Yet, we are often very unaware of the consequences of our actions, and the impact they have on our children’s future. The dangers of our lack of awareness are real. For the first time in history, our children’s life expectancy is shorter than ours. It is our duty as parents to educate ourselves and help our children thrive. This book is:
· An invitation to take a deeper look at the cultural influence on our children’s health.
· A helpful resource for parents who wish to take an active role in preserving their children’s health in today’s toxic environment.
· An empowering guide with life-changing information that most of us don’t have.
Once you know, you can make changes. NOW is the time to act.
About the Author
Agnes Deglon is a biochemist, oriental medicine practitioner, and the mother of two young boys. She is a passionate children’s health advocate. In the few years she spent in the acupuncture clinic, she came to the conclusion that it is easier to preserve health than to cure disease.
Aside from ONCE YOU KNOW A Guide to Preserving Your Child’s Health, Agnes is the author of the children’s book series, Kids’ Questions About Life, an educational book series written in simple language for parents, teachers, and kids who are pondering the deeper, more complex yet so essential issues of life. Book two in the series, Wait for me! Would you Mind?, won first place in the 2016 Royal Palm Literary Award. Book three, The Little Souls, was a finalist.
You can visit her online at WWW.AGNESDEGLONBLOG.COM
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![]() A Whole New Duke
-- EXCERPT: Straightening her shoulders, Bea marched toward Adam. She kept her chin lifted and her gaze set upon her target. Nothing was going to dissuade her today. After all, she had spent too many days watching him ride in the crisp morning air with a pang of jealousy. It was high time she learned to ride too. And her husband was going to teach her whether he liked it or not. He glanced her way and she saw his shoulders stiffen. He said something to the groom, who retreated into the shadows of the stable block, leaving them alone in the bitter morning. If it did not snow by Christmas, Bea would be surprised indeed. Most mornings, a hard frost lay upon the ground, lit by bright, misty sunshine. All it needed was a little warmth in the air and snow would be upon them. She was rather looking forward to seeing what Hartwich Hall looked like in the snow. Would it appear more attractive? Less harsh and ancient? “What can I do for you, Bea?” She met his gaze firmly and squared her posture as though readying herself for a fight. Which it would likely be. Though they had managed not to argue since the night they shared a bed, it was only a matter of time, and she doubted he would be excited about sparing the time to teach her. However, she was a duchess, and it seemed correct that she should know how to ride. Not to mention, she envied his freedom. Whilst she enjoyed a good walk—especially now she knew where she was going—the speed and excitement of riding seemed enthralling. She had been deliberately getting to know the horses to overcome any lingering fears just so she could ask Adam this… “I would like to learn to ride.” The corners of his lips curved. “You do not even like horses, Bea.” She scowled at this. “I did not like horses. I do now that Persephone and I have bonded. And I wish to learn how to ride. I think you should teach me.” He shook his head. “No.” He turned on his heel and marched over to the water pump, setting a bucket underneath it. “No?” she repeated, hastening after him. “What sort of an answer is that?” He spared her a quick glance as he began to pump. “A negative one, I believe.” She exhaled. “I think it proper that I should learn.” “Many women do not ride. I think it quite proper that you do not.” Adam worked the pump vigorously, drawing her attention to the muscles in his arms as they flexed against the pale white of his shirt. A tiny shiver ran through her while she recalled that very arm being wrapped around her the other night when she had been so cold. Sometimes, she could swear her husband was two different men. The one who was determined to ignore and frustrate her at every turn and the gentleman who could be soft and even kind at times. For all his frustration with her, at least she was damn well predictable. Forcing her gaze away, she propped her hands on her hips. She could not allow him to distract her. “If you do not teach me, I shall find someone else who will.” He shook his head again. “No one will teach you, be assured of that.” “Because you will tell them not to? Because you will threaten their jobs?” He smiled. “Precisely.” “You are…just…just awful sometimes.” He hefted up the bucket. “Don’t I know it.” Bea followed him as he took the bucket into the stable block and poured it out into a trough. “It would be simple enough to teach me, surely? Just think, if I can ride, I will not have to plague you so much.” “A welcome prospect indeed but you are not riding, Bea, and that is final.” He moved past her and out of the building as though she did not exist. She followed him out to the water pump again. “You cannot dictate what I do, Adam.” “I am your husband. I can do precisely that,” he said. “I shall learn, one way or another. I shall just climb up on a horse and hope for the best.” His jaw tensed and dropped the bucket to the floor and faced her fully. “You damn well will not.” “I absolutely will.” ![]()
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Mystery
Date Published: May 29, 2019
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
ng"> PI Red Farlow is on the hunt to find $300 million a Florida insurance executive has bilked out of family and friends.
Woody Cunningham stashed the money in safe havens around the world before disappearing. Has he been done in by one of his enemies? Or did he skip town with his girlfriend to live off the ill-gotten wealth? If that’s the case, where is he?
Farlow must quickly learn how and why people hide their money in offshore accounts if he's to find out what happened to Cunningham.
When a tough guy from Farlow's past resurfaces, wanting to settle an old score, Farlow discovers he also has links to the missing man. Clues lead him across Georgia and Florida, and Europe, to find the answers.
Is Woody Cunningham dead, or just rich and gone?
About the Author
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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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Non-Fiction / Sports
Date Published: November 12, 2019
In This Is How We Roll athlete, trainer and social worker Nadia Kyba brings you easy-to-understand social work concepts and tools that you can apply to transform your team to growth and performance. Full of stories and examples, this is your guide to the often difficult conversations required for true, lasting conflict resolution.
This Is How We Roll is a light, fun journey through the process of creating a unique team brand that will set your team apart in every practice, game and tournament. Both on and off the court, ice or field, witness your team transform through the conflict resolution method of champions.
About the Author
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Nadia Kyba is a lifelong athlete with a deep love of sport. She believes a single positive experience in organized sport can be life changing for the young, the old and the in-between. Working in the field of alternate dispute resolution in the child welfare system for 22 years, Nadia has developed tried-and-tested techniques and unique methods of conflict management that can be effectively applied in coach-athlete-parent-trainer dynamics in all individual and team sports.
Nadia currently applies her skill as a trainer at the Justice Institute of British Columbia and other agencies where she trains social workers, and in sports leagues where she helps teams take advantage of differences rather than falling into the many traps of divisive behavior.
Nadia’s company, Now What Facilitation, assists athletic organizations in simplifying their work by developing their capacity to manage and resolve conflict. She focuses on essential policies, protocols, training and techniques for effective decision-making. Her clients have included provincial sport administrators and coaches, as well as athletic teams ranging from the high school to the collegiate level.
Nadia has also learned much from her husband, Jim, and daughters, Lucy and Abby, all of whom are multisport athletes and coaches. They have provided invaluable and up-close insight into the foundation of her approach to conflict resolution in sport.
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Lesbian Fiction
Date Published: October 2019
Anne Elliot broke off her relationship with Freddie Wentworth when her family didn't approve. Almost eight years later, Freddie re-materializes in her life. She's a captain in the Air Force, successful, single, and as beautiful as ever. Mortified that she doesn't have much to show for the intervening years, Anne tries to avoid her. When contact is inevitable, her life is turned upside down. Self-doubt becomes self-improvement, old wounds are reopened and then allowed to heal, and true friends and true love win in the end.
About the Author:
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Jeanette Watts was happily writing historical fiction when she got the idea for her first Jane Austen-inspired novel, Jane Austen Lied to Me. Going to a JASNA event to work on selling that book, she attended a lecture that asked, "Why does everyone rewrite Pride and Prejudice so much more than her other novels? Why doesn't anyone rewrite Persuasion?"
So she had to...
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You’d think that working at a cafe I’d understand the definition of the word sweet, as it turned out, I did not.
At least, not until I got a taste of the man sweeter than the sugar mixed in your afternoon tea.
All it took was a wad of cash, a fancy dress, and thirty minutes of passion.
I, Peyton Sanders, am not—and never will be—a whore. I was stupid to agree to date some random dude from the Sugar Daddy app, even with the promise of ludicrous amounts of money.
But that dating app changed my life. After meeting my first client, my bitter mornings filled with caffeine and stale treats, were about to become a little sweeter…
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Excerpt:
When I reached her door, I took a deep breath before knocking. That’s when I was greeted with the sight of a short blonde with blue eyes and a rather foul expression on her face.
“Sorry, I thought this was—”
“Peyton’s apartment, yeah, and you’re the asshole who treated her like a slut.”
My eyes widened. I was at a loss for words. I thought correcting her on her use of the term slut versus whore would be poorly taken, so I kept my mouth shut on that point. “T-That wasn’t my intention at all—look, may I speak with her, please?”
The woman moved to slam the door in my face, but to both of our surprise, she was stopped by Peyton herself.
Peyton stepped around her friend and crossed her arms over her chest. The pointed stare she gave me would have made my blood run cold if I hadn’t thought groveling would ease her sour disposition. “I honestly don’t want to talk to you.”
I nodded, a pained grimace set firmly on my face. “I know, but I needed you to hear me out.”
“You seem to have a bad habit of needing chances to fix things, Jake.” It seemed this would be as difficult as rectifying the first mess.
I sighed and gave up the rehearsed speech I had in my head and went for whatever flowed in the moment. “I’m sorry.”
“Do those words actually mean anything to you? I mean, you’re really good at saying them, but not so great at backing them up.”
That stung. It also wasn’t true. I didn’t apologize to anyone—other than Peyton it appeared. I just wasn’t good at dating relationships. I hadn’t done much of it and certainly not with anyone I’d actually given a shit about.
I ran my hand through my hair and tried again. “Look, Peyton. I suck at this. The only relationships I’m any good at have dollar signs attached. It’s not because I don’t want to be better; I just don’t have any experience. The feelings I have for you are overwhelming—and clearly, I need to learn how to convey that in a way that computes into care rather than control. I never intended to make you feel like you were anything less than precious.”
Her roommate backed away and out of the door, but Peyton didn’t ask me inside. She did, however, arch her brows and wait for more. Her eyes softened the longer she stared at me, and I knew, if I chose my words carefully, I might get a second—or rather, third—chance.
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About Mila Hart:
It all started with two whores... MILA HART writes cheeky, erotic quickies. We have a whole year of amazingly sexy stories coming your way. STAY TUNED...
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Website : Amazon : Goodreads : Bookbub : Instagram : Twitter : Facebook Profile : Facebook Page
Urban Fantasy/Paranormal
Publisher: Pen & Page Publishing
Date Published: May 11, 2017
During Starfall, magic flooded the Earth and destroyed most technology while humans developed strange new powers. As the scion of a male-dominated clan, Jesse should have risen to become a hero.
One disastrous choice ruins her hopes for the future.
To forget about her life as an assassin, she heads to the dying coasts of Florida. Unfortunately, a chance encounter with a Starfall stone and the Siberian tiger shifter after it thrusts her into the limelight. Escaping Nate’s sights is only the beginning of her woes.
When two dangerous Starfall stones are stolen, it’s up to Jesse to recover them. Should she fail, she’ll only be the first to succumb to the rogue stones’ powers.
About the Author
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.
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Young Adult
Date Published: June 5, 2019
Publisher: Jan-Carol Publishing, Inc.
Betsy Blossom Brown is a coming-of-age story about a young girl who journeys from being an observer of life to a participant. Her seemingly idyllic life with her privileged South Carolina family is turned upside down, revealing truths and disarming pretensions. She's independent, opinionated, and brave. Uncertainty enters her life when she and her mother move to the Appalachian region until, through a series of unsettling events; she sheds her uncertainty and learns to embrace life. The graphite illustrations help to understand the depth of Betsy Blossom Brown, as she sketches her way through life recognizing her mild Asperger syndrome, without letting it curb her appetite for life.
About the Author
Kathleen M. Jacobs is the author of books for young readers. Her first YA-novel, Honeysuckle Holiday, has received critical acclaim. And her children’s book, Please Close It! has won numerous awards. She divides her time between New York City and the Appalachian region. She lives with her husband, John, and far too many books. Visit her website at www.kathleenmjacobs.com and on Instagram @kathleenm.jacobs.
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![]() The Event
-- EXCERPT: In my esteemed, but obviously biased opinion, Creek Water, Missouri, population 14,012, is the armpit of the world. Scratch that, it’s a ripe pustulant boil on the butt of the Northern Hemisphere. If it weren’t my hometown, and I weren’t desperate for employment, I’d have never considered moving back. Ever. I just got off the phone with my Uncle Jed—the Beverly Hillbillies reference is not lost on me—and he’s offered to make me manager of a new commercial venture he and my other uncle Jesse (yes, like Full House) are starting up in the old warehouse district. The revitalization of Creek Water continues as my former peers have discovered that it’s cheaper to live at home and not go out into the real world like I did. Problem is, I got myself into a tiny bit of trouble in the real world. I was driven in my formative years to prove that I could make something of myself without any backing from the illustrious Frothingham family, of which I am one. I was sick to death of people thinking everything was handed to me on a silver platter just because of my last name. So, I worked hard to get excellent grades in school, and I earned myself a scholarship to college. After graduation, I moved to New York City, determined to leave my small-town, small-minded roots behind. Things were going great too, until The Event. I worked as head buyer for Silver Spoons Enterprises in Manhattan, an exclusive gourmet/kitchenware boutique chain on the Eastern Seaboard. I was stationed at our flagship location on East Seventy-Third Street. The Event was the corporate dinner dance at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where all the bigwigs gathered to pat each other on the back and recognize top-performing employees. I thought I was a shoo-in for the Demitasse Award, honoring the most creative contribution to the company during that fiscal year. I was personally responsible for the whole “Linens for Dinner” campaign, which promoted the idea that both urban and suburban millennials only use cloth napkins to dine, thus not only cutting back our carbon footprint by lessening paper waste, but also adding a touch of elegance to our lives. We sold more linens that year than in the previous ten years combined. It was that successful. So there I sat in my way too expensive dress—I splurged because I knew how important it was to make a good impression on the executives and because it was the perfect little number to accept my honor in—when Jameson Diamante announced the nominees for the Demitasse. There were only three of us—me with my linen campaign, Juliet Smithers from the Southampton store for her “Drink More Wine!” crusade, and Allison Conrad from Atlanta for her “Pretty Please, Y’all” call to reinstate formal invitations on engraved card stock. Why don’t we just kill the planet, Allison, with all the trees we’re going to murder for your cause? I was poised on the edge of my seat ready to throw my hands across my heart and gasp something along the lines of, “What? Me? My word, I’m so surprised!” I’d imagined how I’d get up and show off my six-hundred-dollar understated elegance to the whole room. Jameson announced, “This year’s decision was not an easy one to make, with all three ladies greatly contributing to our brand, but in the end, we chose the contender who was responsible for the most innovative campaign.” Here’s where the chain of events gets a wee bit cloudy. I could have sworn he’d called my name, so I stood up as planned, but my good friend and table-mate Lexi says that isn’t what happened at all. Apparently, old Jameson had called out Allison’s name, and she and I both went up to accept the award. How deforesting the planet is innovative, I do not know. I did hear through the corporate grapevine that Allison had gone to Jameson’s hotel room with him before the ceremony like a Kardashian auditioning her new sugar daddy. But I digress. Back to The Event. I grabbed the silver spoon out my fellow nominee’s hand and proceeded to give my speech. All of it. Which for some reason I was allowed to do. It was a beautiful speech. I thanked my mother for her graciousness and manners, and I thanked my grandmother for teaching me how to fold dinner napkins into swans. I was about to thank Silver Spoons for having the wisdom to hire me, when Allison grabbed the Demitasse out of my hand. I may have chosen that moment to snatch it back and hit her over the head with it—obviously not very hard as she never pressed assault charges, thank God. It’s all conjecture really. All I can say for certain is that I hastily fled the ceremony, trotting down all eight hundred thousand stairs of the Met in four-inch heels, in a cloud of disgrace and disappointment. I took a cab to a nearby bar, where I proceeded to drink my body weight in tequila before waking up in an unknown apartment in Brooklyn. ![]()
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