Adriana Kraft

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New Release from Madison Michael #friendfiction #BFFs #contemporaryromance #romanceseries #feelgoodromance #romcom #steamyromance

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CRAZY TO BELIEVE / All’s Crazy in Love Series Book 1, by Madison Michael

Tagline— She’s Betting on Love and the Stakes are High.

Hashtags—#friendfiction, #BFFs,  #contemporaryromance, #romanceseries, #feelgoodromance #romcom #steamyromance

All’s Crazy in Love Series Background

When eight friends from childhood reunite at their twentieth high school reunion, they realize they only see each other at weddings and funerals. This is unacceptable to friends as close as this. The answer—obviously—more weddings. To get the ball rolling, the lone married woman, Gabriella dares her friends to marry or else. When they laugh off her idea, she doubles down on her challenge and raises the stakes.

Gabriella doesn’t care if Avery is so shy that she’s hardly even spoken to a man, or that Rachel can’t choose between the multitude of guys she sleeps with each month. Gabby ignores every argument, instead selecting the worst price for each of them to pay if they lose.

The Dare is on. The women open their hearts to every opportunity that crosses their paths, no matter how unlikely or elusive the man might be. They’ll help each other – as long as it doesn’t cost them the win.

Within weeks Avery finds a fellow cat rescuer, Sofia’s heart flutters with new possibilities at work, and Willow spars and sparks with her horrible neighbor. Melinda has to be coached, but not Harper. After twenty years, she’s finally flirting with her high school sweetheart.

All’s Crazy in Love offers eight steamy romances—from first love to second-chance romance, from unexpected babies to unexpected attraction. Get to know eight wonderful women who find each other, themselves, and a chance to snatch the biggest prize of all—love.  Read these stories and more in the All’s Crazy in Love series coming soon.

Travel with life-long friends as they discover love, test friendships, and race to cross the finish line.

Let the games begin…

Blurb—Crazy to Believe

The “Crazy Eights” have been best friends for thirty years, but they rarely get together. The remedy? An audacious dare contrived to bring them together for weddings—their weddings. Each participant must marry within twelve months or complete a personally mortifying task.

Meet Sofia, beautiful and brilliant, longing for a family. Starting over after a divorce, Sofia is focused on her career, not some foolhardy dare. She’s set her sights on a new job, a new home and reluctantly accepting her single, childless status. Independent and determined, she can’t foresee she will both win and lose her heart’s desire in the next six months.

Jeremy Klein, genius engineer and inventor, is also making big life changes. He’s sold his startup to become a billionaire CEO overnight. Unfortunately, his ego hasn’t caught up yet, and despite family pressures and turning forty, he is gun-shy about returning to the dating game.

Then Jeremy meets Sofia. They bond over shared business interests and a chemistry that sizzles. Their attraction is immediate and so electrifying that a one-night stand quickly morphs into planning a future.

But plans can change. Accusations threaten to derail their relationship, Sofia’s career and Jeremy’s position. Spies, lies and misunderstandings abound until those “Crazy Eights” step in, scheming and manipulating to secure Sofia her happily ever after.

The stakes are high. Win the bet and lose your heart; or lose the bet along with your dignity. When the wager is nothing short of true love, are Jeremy and Sofia crazy to believe?

Excerpt

Mr. Brown Eyes got the message. Sofia watched as he swiftly disconnected from his conversation and sauntered her way. She loved how he moved, relaxed, fluid, and assured. He was a man on a mission. Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy was every bit as good-looking as Nico. Better. He was classically handsome with high cheekbones and a broad forehead. He appeared serious, intelligent and thoughtful. He bore a straight, slightly hawkish nose, and full, kissable lips.

He was sinewy and graceful as a leopard moving in on his prey. His hair was rich, almost black and a little longer than the current style, longer on top and the back. As he drew closer, his smile widened, blinding her with perfect, white teeth in a face burnished by the sun.

His face was devastating up close – open and welcoming, with a hint of naughtiness in his smirk along with the promise of shared pleasures. But it was his eyes, deep coffee brown and fringed with long dark lashes that were his best feature; piercing, intelligent, inquisitive and currently trained on her.

Please, God, Sofia prayed quickly, do not let this man be the new sales manager. It would be awful if she needed to keep him at arm’s length. He was the first man Sofia had felt drawn to since Nico. If she was honest with herself, he was the first man she had ever felt this attracted to so immediately. It was enough to make her believe in love at first sight or fate.

“Hi.” He stepped closer, ignoring the empty stool beside her to halt just inside her personal space. Usually, Sofia would back up, but she savored his closeness, the power emanating from his presence. Even in this stuffy bar, he smelled good – fresh, like soap and good whiskey. And up close, his eyes were more magical, a hint of gold dancing in their depths.

“Hi,” she responded on a breath, letting the single word hang there for a moment. “You aren’t in sales, are you?”

“Nope.” If he thought it was a strange conversation starter, he kept it to himself and his lack of response increased Sofia’s tension. “I could be in sales for you,” he offered in a voice smooth as brandy, redolent with sexual promise and a hint of curiosity. She laughed at his offer, tense for a better reason. “Are you in sales?”

“Yes, I am. I was thinking of what a crime it would be if you turned out to be my new boss. I’m meeting him tomorrow.”

“Jeremy.” He extended his hand to hers. “Not in sales. Is your boss named Jeremy?”

“Thankfully, not.” Sofia savored the moment as Jeremy closed his long fingers around hers, his skin soft and warm. There was no wedding band. Sofia’s relief was excessive. Everything about him captivated her. “Sofia.”

“Sofia.” He rolled the word around his mouth as if tasting a fine wine. “He was just saying words, but their underlying promise was undeniable. She wanted to be alone with him. She wanted to be naked with him. And all she knew was his first name.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, already sitting down. “I am anxious to learn why you don’t know who you work with, Sofia.”

His every emotion was transparent, especially the desire flaming in his expression right now. A passion she reciprocated. Wholeheartedly. She couldn’t fathom such an instantaneous attraction. But with Jeremy, she felt electricity and lust move through her entire body, just from the touch of his hand and the sound of her name spoken in his rich baritone.

The man would be thinking their flirtation would lead to sex. She should shut him down—she always had before. But with Jeremy, her body governed her head. She wanted more.

“So, spill.” Jeremy leaned forward on his elbows, putting his mouth dangerously close to hers. Just a few inches, and they could be kissing. “I am dying to hear your story. I want to know absolutely everything about you.” The way he lingered on the word ‘everything’ made Sofia wet. Oh man, she was in way over her head.

“Only if you reciprocate.” She wondered where she found her voice and her nerve. “In detail.”

“It’s a deal.,” he said, lowering his voice until she wondered what exactly he promised to share.

 

BUY LINKS— https://www.amazon.com/Crazy-Believe-Alls-Love-Romance-ebook/dp/B0BSDTLD2J

Bio— Madison Michael is living her dream as a romance writer. Born and raised in Chicago, she covered the four corners of the U.S, before returning to her roots, friends, family and the best pizza anywhere.

She loves cats, cat jokes and cat videos, anything with too much sugar, and everything writing. Author of the Beguiling Bachelor romance series, and several stand alone romance novels, she can be found living in Chicago, writing, eating sugar, pizza or hotdogs, surrounded by cats.

Email: [email protected]

 

Newsletter— Become an insider here.

 

Guest Post – Character Interview with The Shadowdancer @Libraryoferana #Fantasycharacter #darkfantasy #Fantasy #Meetacharacter

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INTERVIEW

CHARACTER NAME: You can call me The Shadowdancer

  • Tell us a little about yourself.

How do you know I’ll tell you the truth? In fact how do you know what is the truth? It’s such a fluidic term.

I am the shadows, they obey me. I am he who walks unseen, unheard. I am he who brings swift death and then is gone. I am he who serves none but the Oncoming Storm.

  • Tell us why you’re embarking on this adventure?

My master the Oncoming Storm wishes it and so I wish it to be so.

We help those who cannot help themselves, we bring a freedom, of sorts in a land where freedom is sold to those who have the gold to buy it. We remove monsters, and those who inconvenience our plans.

We free elves – for they have no freedom, we rescue where we can and avenge where we cannot rescue.

  • Do you have a moral code? If so, what might it be?

*Laughs. I have killed more people than I can remember – men, women, even children once or twice for mercy, I have slain monsters and I have brought death to the highborn and the lowborn alike. There is no lock, cell or door in the whole of Erana that can keep out the Shadowdancer if he wants ingress. The laws of Erana mean nothing to me, I am beyond the law for I have no law.

Those who are my allies have my unwavering loyalty and the sharpness of my blades. Those who are my enemies – fear the shadows – for there I may be.

  • Do you believe in magic and the gods?

I am an adept – I use a magic of sorts although I am not a spellcaster.

Magic in Erana is complex, it goes where it will and shows itself in many forms. I am fast, faster than most, I can use the darkness and the shadows to cloak myself. If I do not wish to be seen, then I am not seen unless the looker is another adept or already knows someone is there.

I am not pious, I’m far too cynical to be a zealot but I pay homage to the gods if I need to. Do they exist? Yes, of course but whether they bother with the lives of mortals is another matter.

  • Are you a good man? What do ‘good and evil’ mean to you.

*Laughs again. Have you not been listening?

But good and evil are such relative terms in this land. The Witch-Hunters claim they are the force of good – they ‘protect’ the population against the mages and the elves, they keep order, they ensure the roads can be travelled safely….

It’s all bullshit – they oppress the elves – elves and half-elves and anyone not human has no rights, no regress to law. If an elf is attacked in the street – the Order of Witch-Hunters will not intervene, in fact they may even arrest the elf for being an elf. Magic is illegal – sorcerers such as my master should not exist. The only good mage is a dead mage, and all that nonsense. But of course they use magic for their own devices. The best healers are magical, the best weaponsmiths and blacksmiths are magical, and the Order knows it.

My master’s lady was taken, raped and beaten almost to death because she was an elven mage. She was kept as a slave and past around her Keeper’s friends because she had no right to law, no rights as a woman to her own safety or body, and no property.

The Order rule by fear, the dissemination of lies and propaganda; they take a cut from the slavers – who kidnap elves, and sometimes humans.

And for the record – the roads are lousy. There are bandits all over Erana – outlawed men and women who either are living that way because they have no choice or who choose a modicum of freedom – at the risk of capture and death.

I kill, I steal, but I’ve never lain with a woman without her consent, I’ve never killed a mage simply because they are a mage, or dragged someone off to be a slave because it’s a lucrative business.

I’ve risked my life to save strangers, to return something which was taken from an elf widow who had nothing but a worthless trinket from her husband, I’ve poisoned lords, and slit the throats of young men barely old enough to shave because of bad choices they made.

You tell me – am I a good man or a bad one? And either way, I do not care.

  • Who is your greatest friend?

The Oncoming Storm – he is my friend, my master, my mentor and the closest person to a father I have ever known or shall know. He saved my life, educated me, brought me freedom of a sort and wealth beyond that of any other elf in this land. He is kind to those worthy of it, and deadly to those who deserve it.

I would die for him.

  • Do you believe you will be successful in your quest?

I hope so. If we fail someone will pay for that.

  • What do you do on your days off?

I like good food, good books, walking in the hills. I am an alchemist as well, so I like to make things that go boom, or make other people regret meeting me. *Grins.

  • Do you have a lover?

Are you offering?

I have Ozena, a forest elf we assisted. She’s brave, and resourceful and her unworldliness is charming. For some reason I don’t understand she thinks I’m a good man.

EXCERPT

Excerpt from The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book I

“I trust you are the chief of this band, sir, for you seem confident enough to sit apart from your fellows?”

The bandit spun around, sword drawn, to see the figure standing at ease near to him yet beyond sword reach, cloaked with the shadows swirling around his feet. “Who are you, that you come here? You yourself are confident sir considering I am armed and you do not appear to be.”

Olek laughed and somersaulted with lightning speed over the bandit’s head, kicking the sword from the fellow’s hand, toppling him in the dirt and landing with his own sword against the man’s throat.

“Appearances may be deceptive, my friend, but I do not come here as an enemy, for if it was so, you would now be in pieces.”

The other bandits formed a circle, weapons drawn, as Olek sheathed his own sword and held his hand out to help the man up. “As for who I am and why I am here, I will discuss that with you at the fire, as a friend and not surrounded by a ring of swords. Believe me in what I say when I tell you that a good deal of you would fall to my blades before I lay slain and those who did not would feel the wrath of him whom I serve. But as I say, I come here in friendship.”

The chief nodded reluctantly and the bandits sheathed their blades. “You have balls, sir, I give you that. Now perhaps you would care to join me and my companions in a beer from the barrel.” The man gestured to the fire, walked to the barrel and fetched some beer.

He sat and motioned Olek down. “You know I have killed men for less than you just did.”

Olek smiled and took the beer, saying, “I do not doubt it, but if I wanted you dead you would be now lying in the dirt with your head removed, or simply you would not wake to see the dawn. I am not honourable enough to feel remorse for killing a man in his sleep should it suit my purpose. I am known, amongst other names, as the Shadowdancer, and I come from my master with a business opportunity.” As he sat, the cowl of the cloak fell enough to reveal his pointed elven ears.

The bandit chief smiled and held out a hand. “I am honoured to meet you, your reputation precedes you. My name is Tholin. I lead this band, but what could the Shadowdancer want with a band of rogues and outcasts such as us?”

Olek waited until the man was sipping his beer before drinking his own. “Ah, well, that is a good question. I have…other business to deal with and not even I can be everywhere, thus I find it useful to have contacts…eyes and ears around that I may use. Shadows in the shadows, you might say.”

One of the other bandits approached. “How do we know this elf speaks the truth, Tholin? He uses the name of the Shadowdancer yet it could be a lie. Elves lie.”

“Well, perhaps you should take it on faith, unless you want a personal exhibition of my skills…human,” Olek said with a smile like a cat.

The man drew his sword. “Sure, I have not shed blood for a few days, and yours will do nicely, elf.”

Olek simply laughed at the man and as he charged, side stepped and drew both his swords. The bandit charged again and Olek stepped back and disappeared into a patch of shadow beneath the trees to reappear behind the man, bringing his swords down a millimetre from the fellow’s face and a lock of the bandit’s hair fell past his eyes. He kicked the hand holding the sword and the weapon spun away. “Move one hair’s breadth and you are a dead man, bandit. I am the Shadowdancer, if you doubt me further perhaps we can continue this…entertainment, and after I leave you scattered for the wolves, I will take my business elsewhere.”

The bandit paled and held his breath until the swords were removed. “Apologies, sir, for the insult,” he managed with a squeak.

Olek nodded and shrugged, pulling the cowl back to shield his face. “It is best to be cautious in your dealings. Now after so much dawdling, perhaps we may talk business, my time is short. Witch-Hunters pass these roads. It would please my master if they were to be delayed…removed…inconvenienced. The Witch-Hunters seek not only users of magic but those of us who, through choice or necessity, live apart from what they term as law. If you are caught, you will hang, if not worse. The ‘hospitality’ of the Order is well known for its brutality. Now do you not think it would suit us all for them to be inconvenienced?”

Tholin looked at him in awe. “The Shadowdancer has a master? This man must be truly great or truly to be feared. What you ask is dangerous.”

Taking a slow swig, Olek merely replied, “The man I serve is both, for he is the Oncoming Storm. Now I can easily take this request elsewhere. You are bandits; you are supposed to be tough outlaws, the menace of the highways. It seems, however, that this is not the case.”

He got up to leave and Tholin stood quickly, moving to stop him. “We accept. We patrol the roads from the edge of the Tremellic Valley to the bend in the Great River known as the Blasted Oak Crossing. I am sure the Witch-Hunters can be inconvenienced.”

“Good will payment,” Olek said, holding up a small bag of gold coins. “I can be contacted at the Sign of the Moon on the road from Eleiry to the Tremellic Valley. There is a box there, of bleached wood. You may leave a message there, and proof if needed. The message will get to me. If you please my master, there will be extra payment.”

BLURB

The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book I

In a dark world where magic is illegal, and elves are enslaved a young elven sorceress runs for her life from the house of her evil Keeper. Pursued by his men and the corrupt Order of Witch-Hunters she must find sanctuary. As the slavers roll across the lands stealing elves from what remains of their ancestral home the Witch-Hunters turn a blind eye to the tragedy and a story of power, love and a terrible revenge unfolds.

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

BUY LINK

Universal Link https://www.books2read.com/Lightbeyondstorm1

 

The Shining Citadel – The Light Beyond the Storm – Book II

Who rules in this game of intrigue where magic is forbidden, and elves enslaved? Journey where beliefs shatter like glass, truth is unwelcome, and monsters from ancient times abound: share the romance and revenge, magic and passion, and the wages of greed in a world of darkest fantasy.

 

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

https://www.books2read.com/ShiningCitadel

The Stolen Tower – The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book III

What stalks the land cannot be but is.

Where magic is outlawed a troll Shaman calls from her deathbed to her heiress, Mirandra Var, daughter of the storm. Mirandra vows to find her missing kin, sort friend from foe, and claim the dangerous secrets guarded by unthinkable creatures. If she succeeds, she will become the leader of her tribe. If she fails, there will be no tribe to lead.

*18 rated for adult scenes and violence.

Available as ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print and audiobook.

Universal Link https://www.books2read.com/StolenTower

AUTHOR BIO

British-born A. L. Butcher is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet, and a dreamer, a lover of science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her prose has been described as ‘dark and gritty’ and her poetry as ‘evocative’. She writes with a sure and sometimes erotic sensibility of things that might have been, never were, but could be.

Alex is the author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles and the Tales of Erana lyrical fantasy series. She also has several short stories in the fantasy, fantasy romance genres with occasional forays into gothic style horror, including the Legacy of the Mask series. With a background in politics, classical studies, ancient history and myth, her affinities bring an eclectic and unique flavour in her work, mixing reality and dream in alchemical proportions that bring her characters and worlds to life.

Alex is also proud to be a writer for Perseid Press where her work features in Heroika: Dragon Eaters, Heroika Skirmishers – where she was editor and cover designer as well as writer – as well as Lovers in Hell and Mystics in Hell – part of the acclaimed Heroes in Hell series. http://www.theperseidpress.com/

Awards:

Outside the Walls, co-written with Diana L. Wicker received a Chill with a Book Reader’s Award in 2017.

NN Light Book Heaven awards:

The Kitchen Imps and Other Dark Tales won the best fantasy for 2018

Echoes of a Song – one of her Phantom tales – won the best fantasy in 2019

Tears and Crimson Velvet won the best Short Story category in 2020

Dark Tales and Twisted Verses – won the best Short Story Category in 2021

LINKS

Blog https://libraryoferana.wordpress.com/about-a-l-butcher-fantasy-author-poet-author-promotion/

Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/LightBeyondtheStorm/

Twitter https://twitter.com/libraryoferana/

Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/2hK33OM

BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/a-l-butcher

Goodreads http://bit.ly/GR2iqokvK

Linked In https://www.linkedin.com/in/alex-butcher-8342ab13b/

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

Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/libraryoferana

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.co.uk/abmonkey/

Books2Read newsletter sign up

https://books2read.com/author/a-l-butcher/subscribe/1/97541/

Independent Author Network https://www.independentauthornetwork.com/a-l-butcher.html

Google Play https://play.google.com/store/books/author?id=A.+L.+Butcher

Smashwords Author Page https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ALB123

Apple Author Page https://books.apple.com/gb/author/a-l-butcher/id895849667

Apple Audiopage https://books.apple.com/us/author/a-l-butcher/id895849667#see-all/audio-books

Kobo Author Page https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/search?query=a+l+butcher

Perseid Press Author Page http://www.theperseidpress.com/?page_id=523

Barnes and Noble Author Page  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22A.%20L.%20Butcher

 

Blog tour organised by Writer Marketing Services.

 

New Release from Janina Grey @janina_grey #Paranormal #Romance #KindleUnlimited #MFRW

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LOST IN YOUR RHYTHM / Earth and Sky Series Book 3, by Janina Grey

Tagline—Lose yourself in the rhythm of love.

Hashtags—#Romance #AdirondackMountains #TattooGirls #Poolshark #ContemporaryRomance #WitchLit #ParanormalRomance #SoulMatePublishing #KindleUnlimited #MFRW

Blurb—It’s time to stop hiding.

Liza Minelli Purkypile has spent the last seven years hiding from life after defeating cancer. Left to deal with the emotional, physical, and meta-physical impacts of her battle, Liza’s survival depends on avoiding crowds, not to mention love—until Jack Issa drums his way into her heart.

A lifelong New Yorker, Jack’s spent much of his living, learning, playing, and performing on and around Broadway. No longer able to keep the lead spot with the rave-reviewed percussion performers of THUMP!, Jack retreats to the Adirondacks after a life-altering stage accident leaves his spirit broken.

A chance meeting in the local pub finds Liza and Jack unprepared for what their first touch tells them. Sizzling hot and horny from years of abstinence, both soon find out that they’re totally ready to pick up the beat and lose themselves in the rhythm of love.

Excerpt

Following her every action, Jack paused as he processed, then asked, “No one has sex in Purkyville, eh?”

“Of course we do. Just not—”

“On the first date.” He tucked a tendril behind her ear.

“Um. Sometimes? I think it depends.” Liza dropped her gaze to his mouth, fighting the urge to lean in a bit more.

He moved closer and prodded with a whisper. “On?”

“Onnn. . .” The rest of her sentence was forgotten as Jack slipped his forefinger under her chin, tilting her face toward his.

“Jack,” she whispered back, feeling his breath caress her lips as he moved closer still.

“Liza. I’ve never kissed anyone named Liza before.”

The hum of the fridge was louder than his voice. But she heard his every word.

“Well, what are you waiting—?” She murmured against his lips as he gently stole the end of her question with his own question. A gentle prodding, a searching, wondering wordless query that bid her to answer.

BUY LINKS—  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0C4Q6X181

 Bio— Janina Grey has been writing since she could hold a crayon, and there has been no stopping her since. Journaling, short stories, poetry, newsletters, news, feature, columns, Op/Eds, and press releases have kept her busy her whole life. But it was the sweet Harlequin romances she read in her downtime that stayed forever in her heart and gave her the inspiration to write her own contemporary romances now published with Soul Mate Publishing.

By day, Janina guides domestic and sexual assault survivors down their path of healing and empowerment. But in the wee hours of the morning, she hunkers down at her childhood writing desk with Imagine Dragons, Coldplay, Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, or Led Zep streaming through her earbuds while she brings to life her characters as they face their real-life sorrows and successes, and best of all, their happily-ever-afters.

Growing up on Long Island and living periodically in Tennessee as a youth has given her the opportunity to meet many different types of people and experience many different lifestyles. After moving from Long Island to settle in the Mohawk Valley in Upstate New York with her family, she found the support needed to pursue her writing endeavors with Central New York Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America.

When Janina is not writing, she may be marching for women’s rights, kayaking, camping, drumming, or dancing around the fire.

With the kids grown, she and her husband, David, share their 115-year-old Mohawk Valley farm house homestead with a few resident spirits and a very squawky murder of crows.

Email: [email protected]

Websites: www.janinagrey.com
Amazon: amazon.com/author/janinagrey

B&N: www.barnesandnoble.com/s/janina%20grey
Facebook: facebook.com/janinagrey
Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/18967836.Janina_Grey
Instagram: @janinagreyauthor https://www.instagram.com/janinagrey_author/
Twitter: @janina_grey  / https://twitter.com/janina_grey
Bookbub.com: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/janina-grey

Sign up for my newsletter and enter to win a $20 gift card to Amazon and receive a Barefoot Dan behind the scenes story!

Newsletter— https://mailchi.mp/ff6710d770aa/janina-greys-adventure

Blog Tour: Servant, by Patrick R. Field #Paranormal #Fantasy #Giveaway #LGBTQ

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GENRE: Paranormal Fantasy

BLURB:

Not long after their move into Blackstone, married couple Mitch and Buck begin to witness strange sightings of shadowy figures, physical manifestations and inexplicable events taking place in the former Sheppard family estate nestled in the Northern Poconos of Pennsylvania. Through séances, they learn from the spirit of Jedidiah Sheppard that he has not been able to cross over into the afterlife because the truth behind his sudden disappearance in 1965 has never been solved. During this journey, Mitch and Buck and an eccentric psychic, Gladys Munch aka Madame Fortunesta, encounter interference from the spirit of a Lenape medicine man, Mesingwe Medeu, who protects Jedidiah’s spirit. Mitch and Buck eventually realize that they must find Jedidiah’s remains and let the authorities discover through modern detective work the evidence needed to try and convict the murderer. But is it too late for Jedidiah’s spirit to find eternal peace?

EXCERPT

My curiosity finally getting the better of me, I ask, “What’s in your ‘concoction’?”

“Snaps and snails and puppy dog tails,” she chortles, a devilish smile beaming across her face as she continues uninterrupted. “I’m teasing. It’s your typical combination of magical plants…Mug wort, Wormwood, Mandrake, Sage oil, and a little Belladonna. Don’t want too much of that—we don’t need a hallucinogenic tonight. I have a feeling we’re going to see quite a show.”

“We’re not gonna eat that, are we?” I exclaim, after hearing the list of ingredients.

“No, silly, we’re going to wear it, on our faces. To trick anything nasty we might find down there that we’re not part of the living,” Gladys explains.

Instantly, Buck and I look at each other, our faces reflecting the same thought: “What the hell did we get ourselves into?”

“All right, that should do it,” Gladys states as she finishes molding her paste. She then opens the three velvet-covered boxes and pulls out three identical necklaces made of fine silver chains, with a round globe-like cage at the end that’s about three inches in diameter. Picking up one of the necklaces, she springs a catch on the cage, and it opens via delicate, simple hinges. Opening another box, she extracts what looks like a light brown carrot. The root looks like the body of a miniature person. “This is Mandrake root, a very powerful plant we will wear around our necks in these necklaces to protect us,” Gladys explains.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

After twenty-five years in higher education, Patrick Field traded in teaching and textbooks to pursue his passion of writing spine-chilling fiction. Holding a Ph.D. in Anatomical Sciences and Neuroscience, his experience informs his writing, a unique blend of scientific knowledge with supernatural storytelling.

His non-scientific writing career began with Prince Patrick, a memoir of his precocious childhood that he wrote for his mother as she battled pancreatic cancer. This process was not only healing but helpful in stirring his creativity and marked the moment he was bitten by the writing bug.

An avid fan of Anne Rice, Edgar Allen Poe, and Joe Hill, Patrick’s subsequent novels were inspired by his favorite authors. His first fiction novel, The Malevolent, and his two latest novels, The Bedfordshire Warlock (release date in early 2024) and Servant were written throughout the isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic.

His latest novel Servant was inspired by the supernatural events that happened to the author, his husband, and friends that have stayed in their home in northeastern Pennsylvania. Taking a page from his teaching philosophy that those who teach must never cease to learn, Patrick found himself hungry to discover all he could about the area’s diverse cultures, including the Anthracite coal mining community and the indigenous tribe of the Lenape.

Patrick’s writing process is a mix between walking meditation and meticulous research. His novels form while he walks alone with his dogs, imagining plot lines and characters. Once he’s home, he quickly types notes on his computer before fleshing them out later. Research is a considerable part of his process- the scientist in him abhors “alternative facts.” When he encounters an idea or a historical thread unfamiliar to him, he researches all he can about it. While he writes about a world where the supernatural realm is prominent, the real world is always based on facts.

When developing characters, he usually has an idea of the destination he wants for each character but the journey to get there is often written by the character and the environment. Of all the characters he’s written, Gladys Munch in Servant is his favorite, as she’s an amalgam of delightful, humorous “mature” ladies in his life and physically inspired by British actresses Margaret Rutherford and Angela Lansbury.

In addition to writing, Patrick appears on the stage of his community theater and sings in the chorus of a local opera company each summer. He enjoys spending time with his husband, Matthew, and their dogs and exploring new destinations around the world, especially those that have a supernatural history. Haunted buildings and structures associated with the occult fascinate Patrick. His idea of a perfect day: drinking pints of Guinness draught with friends and family over scintillating and humorous conversation.

Website: patrickfieldauthor.com
Instagram: patrickfieldauthor
Facebook: actoranatomist

Links for purchasing Servant

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Servant-Patrick-R-Field/dp/1509248765/ref=sr_1_1

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/servant-patrick-r-field/1143071600

Walmart:
https://www.walmart.com/ip/Servant-Paperback-9781509248766/2686843043

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Blog Tour: The Empath and the Soldier, by A. K. Holubek #Giveaway #LGBTQ #FantasyFiction

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The Empath and the Soldier - A.K. Holubek
A.K. Holubek has a new MM Regency period fantasy book out, The Unconventionals book 1: The Empath and the Soldier. And there’s a giveaway.

The situation seemed hopeless. But Tyrran couldn’t pretend to be ignorant of the danger and just wait for his home to disintegrate around him.

As a Favored male, Tyrran belongs to a select group of men born with one of the Four Gifts, a blessing usually reserved for women. Quiet, introverted, and filled with self-doubt, Tyrran has always struggled with living up to the responsibilities that come with being Gifted. Still, he had managed to achieve the near impossible — admission to the prestigious Lyceum Institute in Corvit, the Coarian Sovereignty’s bustling capital city. With this success, Tyrran’s future seems clear: the best education, a position in a Temple, and, one day, marriage to a young man of good fortune.

That is, until sinister forces intervene to shove him down a much bleaker path. Tyrran’s plans are thrown into upheaval when a deadly attack reveals the existence of an insidious evil festering within the ranks of the Sovereignty’s elite.

Now, he must use the privileges afforded him as a Lyceum student to uncover the secrets of a corrupt government. Targeted by relentless assassins and trying to ignore his growing attachment to the handsome exchange student Adwin, Tyrran must gather trustworthy allies to face the dangers that threaten to tear apart his nation and his home.

Bridgerton meets The Magicians in this fantasy novel about the importance of confidence and the strength of friendship.

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Excerpt

The Empath and The Soldier meme
At that moment they stopped suddenly, startled by someone crawling out of the pond almost directly in front of them. The someone turned out to be a man—an East Silacian, Tyrran noted right away, due to his black skin. He was shirtless, wearing only white tights, and he looked about Tyrran’s age. He was shorter than Tyrran and his chest, stomach, and arms were muscular—sculpted was the more appropriate term, his skin stretched tight over every muscle. His physique was compact rather than large, he had deep brown eyes, and his black hair was cut close to his head.

Tyrran had always suspected that the Silacian reputation for beauty was exaggerated, stemming from the inferiority complex Coarians held towards Silacians, whose empire was much larger, wealthier, and more advanced than the Sovereignty. But if Nyri and this man were any indication, then their reputed good looks were understated if anything.

“Good morning, soldier,” the man said, addressing Lena as he wiped water from his face with his hands. He spoke the Common Tongue with a sophisticated accent that sounded very similar to Nyri’s.

“Good morning, Adwin,” Lena replied, looking puzzled. “Did you, uh, fall in the pond?”

“Not at all. I was just going for a morning swim.” He smiled as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“In public? In the middle of campus?”

“But of course. This appears to be the closest body of water to our college. However, by your expressions, I assume Coarian notions of decorum discourage public bathing. I did swim wearing my tights, since I know public nudity is frowned upon.”

He may as well have removed them, for what little use they were in covering his nudity. The material clung to his skin, revealing bulging leg muscles as well as other bulges that Tyrran was making a concerted effort not to stare at.

“We do tend to prefer bathing in secluded areas,” Lena said. “Spaces set aside for bathing. Like the bathhouse next to the Barracks House, for instance.”

“I did try the bathhouse, but the water is heated. Quite uncomfortable on a warm day like today. Do you suppose I shall be sent packing back to Silacia for this breach of conduct?” An impudent grin spread across his face.

“It’s early enough that I’m sure no one but us has seen you. Though I do suggest you put the rest of your clothes back on soon. Where are they, by the by?”

“My clothes? I left them further down the trail. In truth, I was swimming about the pond for exercise rather than for bathing, then I saw the two of you and thought to come greet you. And now I think I have finished with swimming. Would you mind accompanying me to fetch my clothes?”

Tyrran could see that Lena was annoyed by the request and had every intention of replying in the negative. But Tyrran didn’t want Adwin to be offended, so he quickly spoke up.

“We would be happy to.”

That earned him an evil look from Lena.

Adwin offered his arm to Tyrran. “Adwin Mekalbe, at your service.”

Tyrran grasped his forearm, “Tyrran Kens, at yours,” he replied, trying to keep his voice from squeaking.

“I assume you do not attend the Military College,” Adwin continued, as the three of them resumed walking along the trail.

“No, I’m at Roothe College. Lena and I are friends from Temple Academy.”

“Ah, yes. In Hifield City. I am truly sorry about the attacks. I do hope you were not directly affected.”

Guest Post

Thanks for the opportunity to talk a little about my new book. In this post, I’d like to discuss how I began writing my novel.

I started writing The Empath and the Soldier on my phone. My husband and I had just moved from Washington, DC to Baltimore, Maryland for his job. But I continued to work in DC, which meant my commute was now an hour trek each way. Fortunately, that journey was made mostly on a train, rather than sitting in my car on congested highways.

When I first began this commute, like many of my fellow train passengers I would put on headphones to block out the world around me, listening to music while scrolling through social media or catching up on the news. But at the time, both social media and the news were very bleak places. I would often arrive at work or at home completely despondent after an hour-long train ride subjecting myself to a litany of the world’s evils.

I finally decided I needed a break from the constant doom scrolling. Usually, I would escape from social media by diving into a good novel. But at that moment I was suffering from reader ennui—I just couldn’t find a novel that really captured my interest. So I figured it might be time to write down a story idea that had been bouncing around in my head for years.

Actually, “story idea” is a massive exaggeration. What I really had was an idea for the opening scene of a story. Two friends climbing a hill together in the early morning, before some sort of special school function (exciting, right?). I honestly had no idea where the story would go from there. I only knew that it would be fantasy and take place in a different world, rather than some alternative version of Earth. I really wanted to get completely away from our planet.

One morning I began to pen my opening scene on a notetaking app I had downloaded to my phone, using my thumb to “swype” the words of my first novel onto the screen. I couldn’t use my work computer for personal writing, and my home computer wasn’t all that portable. My phone was really the only option for writing on my way to work.

It didn’t take long to finish the one scene that I had been imagining. After that, I actually had to consider what the plot would be, the characters’ personalities, what the world they lived in was like, etc. Besides wanting the story to be an otherworldly fantasy tale, I also wanted the novel to focus on LGBTQ+ characters, reflecting my own life experience as a gay man. In addition, I decided that the book should take place in a college-like setting. I thought it would be interesting to revisit and explore that time in life when adolescence has just ended and for the first time you really start to discover what it means to be an adult.

I didn’t map out the entire plot and character arcs like some authors do. Instead, I wrote the novel scene by scene, figuring out the characters and story as I went along. And while this might sound like an imaginative and spontaneous process, it’s also super inefficient. I would constantly have to rewrite earlier portions of the novel when they conflicted with later events or when something I wanted to happen halfway through the book required an introductory scene at the beginning.

Eventually, though, a cohesive and consistent story began to take shape. A few years, and many, many rewrites later, The Empath and the Soldier was complete.

In those first few days of writing the book, as my thumb slid across the glass screen of my phone in a frenzied effort to keep up with my thoughts for what happened next in the story, I had the “brilliant” idea to write the entire novel via smartphone.

“Yes,” I imagined myself saying on The Kelly Clarkson Show, “I wrote everything on my Samsung Galaxy.” Kelly, and the world, would be astonished at how I took writing to the next level, technologically speaking.

Obviously, this was a ridiculous notion. Writing more than a few sentences at a time on a phone is extremely tedious. I gave up after a week and purchased a cheap laptop I could use on the train.

In short, The Empath and the Soldier began as a sort of doodling with words on my phone to pass the time on a long commute to work. I’m still not quite sure how I found the patience and persistence to turn these word doodles into a published novel, but it’s one of my proudest life accomplishments thus far.

Author Bio

A.K. Holubek
The moment A.K. Holubek stumbled across a ragged copy of The Fellowship of the Ring in his elementary school library, his life changed forever. The rest of his childhood, his adolescence, and even his college years were spent living only part time in the real world. He much preferred spending time in the fantasy lands of his imagination than in the reality of life as a closeted gay kid. As real life got better, he left his fantasy worlds behind. But a few years ago, those worlds called him to return, and to share his created worlds with others who might also need a place to escape. He now endeavors to carry out this mission from his home in Baltimore, supported by his husband and two ridiculous cats.

Author Website: http://theunconventionals.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/andrew.holubeck

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/akholubek

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/theunconventionalsbooks/

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New Release Blitz: Diversion Plan, by Tag Gregory @TagWritesBooks #Giveaway #Contemporary #GayRomance #LGBTQ+

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Title: Diversion Plan

Series: Rooms For Romance, Book Two

Author: Tag Gregory

Publisher: Tag Gregory

Release Date: 4/21/23

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 330

Genre: Romance, Contemporary Romance, LGBTQ, MM Romance, Gay Romance

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Synopsis

Brent Riddick has been up to his armpits in work ever since he started his job as the Truman School’s manager. He admits he probably qualifies as a workaholic, although he doesn’t really care. He’s simply more comfortable standing in front of a board meeting than sitting in a cocktail lounge and has no desire to examine his lack of a social life. So it isn’t a big deal to him that he sorta forgets it’s his birthday.

Unfortunately his staff, led by the hotel’s sexiest troublemaker, Guthrie, remembers the occasion and Brent is begrudgingly forced to allow his co-workers to take him out for drinks. However, when all those birthday drinks go to Brent’s head and he ends up going home with an equally drunken Guthrie, things get a little more complicated.

Guthrie Walker is the kind of guy who always knows where the next party is happening. He also has a Plan B Party and a Plan C Party if his original party plans fall through. He’s still young and figures there’ll be plenty of time later to get serious about life. Drinking and dancing with his friends is definitely more fun than dealing with his messed up finances or dwelling on the festering rift with his family. So what if he occasionally drinks a little too much, does a few club drugs, comes in late to work a time or two, and suffers from an almost perpetual hangover? Everyone does it, right? Too bad the judge overseeing his case after Guthrie is arrested for drug possession doesn’t see things that way.

As if things weren’t messy enough, the court-ordered Diversion Plan requires Guthrie to enlist the help of his supervisor at work – who also happens to be one of Guthrie’s many one-night stands – if he wants to stay out of jail, retain his server’s license, and not lose his job. The hotel is already short-staffed and Brent is too much of a softie to say no to his desperate subordinate. Which is how Brent ends up vouching for Guthrie and agreeing to monitor his compliance with the court’s mandates. Now Brent just has to come up with a way to divert the party boy’s attention away from his club-scene past and himself away from lusting after his hot mess employee.

Excerpt

Chapter 1 – Brent

It’s not my fault that I’m so busy I sorta forget my own birthday.

The past six months, ever since I was hired as the manager of the Truman School, have been wild. I’ve been so busy that I rarely even remember what day of the week it is, let alone the actual date. Unless, of course, there’s some critically important work event I need to know the date of; those dates I remember because I’m paid well not to forget them. Personal stuff, though . . . Not so much.

The first three months leading up to the Grand Opening of the hotel were filled with hiring staff, overseeing the remodeling of the building, and working with the PR team to plan the opening. Most of that time I was working fourteen hour days, six or seven days a week. Things only slowed down incrementally following the opening. Being the manager, I end up being the one expected to handle all the problems and, for some reason, those problems always happen at the least opportune times. Primarily weekends and the middle of the night, it seems. I don’t think I’ve really taken a relaxed breath since starting this job.

Not that I really mind. I guess I probably qualify as a ‘work-a-holic’ but that’s fine with me. I’d rather be too busy than not busy enough. Work is good. I’m good at what I do. I like knowing that I’m appreciated. I like hearing the accolades from my bosses at McNally’s. I really like that I’ve already received one merit-based promotion despite being with the company less than a year. Plus, when I’m up to my armpits in work shit, I don’t have time to worry about anything else. So, generally speaking, I don’t complain about being too busy. Life is easier when you’ve got a purpose and, since I don’t have much of a life outside of work right now, that’s really my only purpose.

However, this weekend is proving especially hectic, what with it being Labor Day. The last official weekend of Summer is traditionally one of the busiest times of the year in the hospitality industry and, happily, the hotel is booked to capacity. It doesn’t help matters that our chef up and quit on me last week and the replacement, Easton, is not one hundred percent up to speed yet. Or that I’m immersed in marketing meetings with Ryan Zellers and the McNally’s PR team most of the weekend. Or that Ryan and his boyfriend – our ex-artist, Jayce – invited most of the staff to join them for dinner on Friday night. Or that the plumbing in the north wing backed up on Saturday afternoon. Or that any of the hundreds of other things that I’ve had to worry about this weekend have been taking up any spare brain capacity I might have left over.

Anyway, it’s no wonder I’m far too preoccupied with the daily crises of managing a full hotel to notice that this year September sixth – my birthday – falls on the first Monday of the month. I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that Logan, my assistant manager, remembers the occasion. I’m afraid that I probably look a little confused, though, when my team surprises me with an impromptu celebration just as soon as I give the okay to the restaurant staff to close up the Courtyard kitchen at nine-thirty that Monday evening.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow . . .” They all sing as Malia emerges from the kitchen with a Jaciva chocolate cake festooned with three largish candles.

The fact that they aren’t singing the traditional birthday song adds to my confusion. “What’s this for?” I ask as the group circles round the table where the cake has been placed and I’m pushed down into a chair facing the confection. “Are you folks angling for promotions or something?”

“I told you he’d forget.” Logan gives a conspiratorial laugh. “Happy birthday, Brent!”

“Happy birthday, Boss!” the crowd echos.

I look around and see the faces of pretty much the entire hotel staff staring at me: Logan, Guthrie, Easton, Wyatt, Keshawn, Perry, Tasha, and all the rest. I note that even Mark has come by this evening, despite working out of corporate headquarters most of the time. I smile around at them lamely and try to look happy at being ambushed, even though I hate being made the center of attention like this. I’ve never been overly comfortable in social situations, especially when I haven’t had time to prepare something to say or figure out how I’m supposed to act. It’s different when I’m standing in a boardroom or in front of a staff meeting. Those I can handle. But random surprise parties where I’m the guest of honor are a whole ‘nother thing.

I can feel my skin heating up and I try to fight back the blush I feel creeping up from under the collar of my shirt. Being a redhead, I can’t control the fact that my ruddy skin usually gives me away any time I’m feeling embarrassed or put on the spot. I try not to let myself get caught out like this too often. I’m the fucking manager after all; I can’t be going around blushing like a school-girl in front of my staff. Apparently my body doesn’t understand the need to maintain a professional demeanor, though, and that stupid blush takes over, no doubt turning my cheeks almost as red as my beard. But I try to smile anyway as I laugh at myself along with the rest.

“Thank you. But you didn’t have to do this.” I gesture at the cake and try to bat away the hands attempting to pull the elastic strap of a paper birthday hat under my chin. “Really. You shouldn’t have . . .”

“Of course we should,” Logan insists, pulling out the chair across from me and smiling in an officious manner as they seat themselves. “Celebrating staff birthdays together is part of the fun of working here – or so it says in the McNally’s Team Policy Manual – but I knew you wouldn’t take the time to celebrate on your own, so I made the executive decision to ensure you at least sat down long enough to eat a piece of cake. And, after the ridiculously busy weekend we all just had, everyone deserves a party. Including you. Now, be a good boss and pretend to enjoy yourself.”

I know they’re only teasing so I try to play along. “Who has time for birthdays?” I respond, causing several of the party to chuckle.

“C’mon, Boss. You’d think someone born on ‘Labor Day’ would at least remember when to celebrate!” Someone in the back – I think it’s probably that smart-ass, Guthrie – calls out.

And, yes, I’m aware of the irony of the fact that the celebration of my birth is happening on ‘Labor Day’ this year. My poor mother, going into labor on ‘Labor Day’ thirty years ago, no doubt also thought it hilarious at the time. However, since my birthday and the holiday coincide about every six or seven years, I’ve definitely heard that joke more than a few times. It wasn’t funny the first four times I heard it, and I’m not really that amused now either. But I can’t be ungracious when they’re all trying to be nice by throwing me this party so I offer an awkward smile and fake a chuckle.

Did I mention how much I hate uncomfortable social situations?

Then another voice from the crowd – Guthrie again, I assume, because nobody else would dare to be that flippant with the boss – urges me to, “make a wish and blow already!” which, of course, leads to more teasing and joking.

What else can I do? I can’t just walk out of my own birthday party, so I play along, blowing out the candles and accepting a piece of cake. Malia pours beers for everyone who’s already off the clock, and maybe a few who are supposed to still be on the clock, but I turn a blind eye to that minor policy infraction since they’re ostensibly only doing it in my honor. The party carries on from there.

I’m not sure exactly when the party gets so out of control.

One minute we’re sitting around in the empty dining room, drinking beer and eating cake, chatting and laughing about work stuff and the crazy weekend we’d just lived through, and the next minute someone suggests we take the party on the road. I hear Guthrie, the eternal party boy, proposing we all go to Scandals. Several other voices concur. I try to demur, using the pile of administrative paperwork waiting on my desk as an excuse to get out of this little field trip, but I’m shouted down. After all, it’s my party, right? I’m the guest of honor. They all want to buy me more drinks. I might still have backed out, though, if Guthrie wasn’t teasing me so relentlessly.

“Come on, Boss!” The tall, bold blond waggles his eyebrows at me from behind those hipster horned-rimmed glasses of his. “Pull the stick out of your ass and live a little for once!”

I want to tell him to fuck off, and maybe even write him up for talking to his superior in such an improper manner, but that would make me look like an ungrateful jerk. This whole celebration is supposedly for my benefit, right? I’m expected to play along. Which is exactly why I hate social interaction. I feel so awkward; I never know how I’m supposed to react when put on the spot like this. So, despite feeling completely out of my element, I allow myself to be talked into relocating the party to one of Portland’s more well-known gay bars. What the hell, right? I suppose I can allow the diversion this once.

The debauchery progresses rapidly from that point.

I suppose it’s obvious fairly early on that I don’t routinely drink very heavily. I’d had a couple beers back at the Truman School, so I’m already feeling a bit loose when we arrive at Scandals. The team immediately insists that I drink something called a ‘Birthday Cake Shot’ to celebrate my special day. That’s followed up by a Jagerbomb. After that I completely lose track of the seemingly endless rounds of drinks that follow as everyone and their brother offers to buy the Birthday Boy a drink.

Although Scandals isn’t a dance club, per se, at some point during the night the entire Truman team ends up in the middle of the floor, jumping, twisting, gyrating, and dancing together in a big group. Surprisingly, I’m right in the middle of the roiling mess of them and, for once, I’m having a pretty good time, despite my introvert tendencies. The bartender cranks up the tunes. The music is decent and quite danceable. None of us are feeling any pain and the party moves into high gear.

I’m more than halfway sloshed by this point. I will readily admit that all the toasts I’ve been the recipient of have me flying pretty high. I’ve had enough to drink that my inhibitions are pretty nonexistent and I’m relaxed enough not to care how I look anymore. I even give up trying to remove the stupid party hat that my staff insists I keep wearing. I’m having a great time dancing, to be honest – something I usually avoid out of fear of looking like a juvenile red-headed moose having a seizure – which is, unfortunately, my go-to dance move. But I’m just tipsy enough tonight to not give a damn and it feels good to let go for a change.

So, when Guthrie comes up behind me at some point and starts grinding against me from behind I don’t sweat it. I merely laugh and wiggle my ass a little provocatively. Then I toss back the rest of the glowing, fruity blue drink that is currently in my hand and twirl around like some kind of drunken ballerina.

“Oh, so he can dance,” Guthrie says, taking advantage of the smooth tempo of the music to pull me back against him even closer.

I can feel his tall, lanky body pressed up against me from behind and then his hips do this swivel thing that causes his crotch to grind into the crack of my ass. I don’t even bother trying to stifle the groan that escapes from my lips at that move. It’s been a hella long time since I had anyone grinding up against me and I’m not about to waste the experience. Especially not when it’s a hot blond like Guthrie.

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Meet the Author

TAG has been living in Portland, Oregon, so long that it’s almost like being a native. They don’t even mind the rain that much anymore. TAG loves the city and the state with a passion. TAG has been writing for almost a decade, starting out with a hesitant toe in the realm of fanfiction before venturing into the scarier world of self-publishing original works. With an eclectic background as an attorney, microbiologist, all-around nerd, and adventurer, TAG brings to all their writing an off-kilter sense of humor, unbounded curiosity, a love of historical and contemporary details, and astonishing powers of research. If you are looking for a gripping story, with compelling characters that deal with real world issues, then you’re in the right place.

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