Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Dominic by Marteeka Karland ~ @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #DominicGrimRoadMC #MarteekaKarland #MCRomance


Dominic by Marteeka Karland


(Grim Road MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: December 27, 2024


About the Book:

I’m sergeant at arms of Grim Road MC. When I decide a woman is mine? She’s mine.


Annie -- I’m seriously starting to question my life choices. The truth is, even though I was practically homeless and living on a meal a day most of the time, I’m vastly better off now than I had been. Unfortunately, stubbornness doesn’t pay for shelter. Or even food, if you can believe it. I have a job at a local diner, but it’s still hard to survive. Which is how I find myself in a bikini contest. If I make it out of this situation, I’m never doing this again. Yet somehow I end up in bed with the most wicked, dangerous man I’ve ever met. And why does he call to me like nothing else ever has in my life?

Dominic -- The things I let my vice president push me into… I’m not a people person on the best of days, but somehow Lemon talked me into being a judge at a the local bikini contest. She says it’s to give the club some positive community exposure, but I’m pretty sure she’s just trying to get me laid. Too bad every woman here’s young enough to be my daughter. I’m a protective guy by nature and have a bit of a soft spot for vulnerable women. It’s one of many reasons Rocket made me sergeant at arms for Grim Road MC. Unfortunately, my protective instincts kick in when my co-judge gropes one of the contestants. The shock on the young woman’s face and the panicked way she flees the stage prompts me to act without considering the consequences… and that’s how the fight starts…




Read an Excerpt:

“I’m too old for this fuckin’ shit.” It was true, too. At forty-eight years old I was definitely too old to be judging a bikini contest. Especially not after as much beer as I’d consumed. Though I knew better than to touch without invitation, I was just as likely to say something equally offensive. But at least, maybe I wouldn’t get myself arrested.

“Me too.” The guy beside me was every bit my age and then some. He looked like the standard West Palm Beach retiree. Too much on the spray tan, too much on the hair transplants, and a little soft around the middle. He was also probably wealthy enough not to care about the going to jail part when he groped a young woman. Guy likely had a couple of the city’s finest in his pocket in the case of something so trivial as touching a woman inappropriately without permission. Like in the middle of a bikini contest. Fucking bastard. “Don’t mean I’m not enjoying every fucking second.”

A huge smile on his face, the guy reached out -- just as I knew he would the second he’d sat down next to me at the judges’ table -- and ran his hand up the inner thigh of one of the contestants. The girl sidestepped her way deftly out of reach and gave the guy a mock reproving look. Like it was all a big joke when I knew she’d reacted the way she had by pretending it hadn’t bothered her that a strange man had been headed to the promised land without her permission. I’d always thought it was disgusting what women put up with sometimes. This was a prime example.

“No touching,” I snapped at the guy. I was only here because I’d let Lemon bully me into participating. Something about acting as security near the stage and looking good for the club in the community… Oh. And about me needing to get laid. Which, while I didn’t disagree with her, I didn’t want a child in my bed. These girls were all supposed to be at least eighteen but were young enough to be my daughters. I thought back to Tina and my own daughter, Calista. Calista was married to my enforcer and was probably only a couple of years older than some of these girls. So, yeah. I knew grandparents who were my age. Tina was probably laughing at this whole situation from heaven. If she thought about me at all. I thought she might and I was determined to not do anything to make her ashamed of me. Which made this a colossal waste of time if Lemon was trying to get me hooked up. But I’d be Goddamned if I wouldn’t put this guy in his place.

“Fuck you, man.” The guy didn’t even look at me. Instead, he reached for another woman walking past our table. This one obviously wasn’t used to being in these sorts of things because she started when his hand slid up the back of her thigh to squeeze her ass before she could get out of his grip. She whipped around with a startled cry and the guy just laughed. “That’s right, baby girl!” he yelled up at the young woman to be heard over the whoops and hollers. “Come to papa!”

The look on her face said she hadn’t expected anything like this when she entered this contest and had no idea how to handle the situation. Which meant she’d probably either been tricked into entering, or she was desperate. I wasn’t sure which to hope for, and I wasn’t sure which made me more angry.

“Touch her again, I’ll rip your arms off. You damn sure won’t touch her after that.” I actually bared my teeth. Which wasn’t something I’d normally do. I prided myself on my cool head. I was methodical and planned each move as carefully as I could. I also listened to my instincts and factored them into my decisions. This time, however, I hadn’t even thought about my move; I’d just acted, practically snarling like a rabid wolf. Also, I meant every single word. If he touched that girl again, I’d follow through with my promise.

“What the fuck, man? Why else would I be here if not to enjoy the show?” He gave me a cocky -- if a bit nervous-looking -- grin. “They all like it or they wouldn’t put themselves in this kinda thing.”

It took all my restraint not to wait until he touched the girl again -- and I knew he’d at least try -- and just beat the fuck outta him right now. “I’m not repeating myself. You’ve been warned.”

“Fuck you.” The guy sneered at me before reaching out to run his hand up the same girl’s calf.

This time she jumped back, a panicked look on her face that sent a spike of fury through my chest. I reached out to the guy, fully intending to knock his hand off her. Instead, I grabbed the back of his head and shoved him face first into the edge of the stage. There was the crunch of bone, a spray of blood, and Mr. Handsy dropped to the ground and didn’t move.

The girl on the stage gasped, slapping both hands over her mouth in shock. She looked from me to him and back before turning and fleeing the stage.

“Fuck.” I hadn’t meant to scare the girl and, for some fucking reason, it made my chest ache worse than my anger at imagined reasons for her being in this contest in the first Goddamned place.

All around me, men were still cheering, either not noticing the interaction between two of the judges or not caring. I kept my eye on the fleeing girl so I could see exactly which way she went. I caught the number on her hip indicating her contestant number. I’d find out her name before I left this place, then I’d give that shit to Crush or Byte and they’d find her for me if needed. Oh, they’d moan and groan and tell me they needed more, then after a bunch of grumbling and even more pizza, chips, dip, chicken wings, and anything else they could get Evelyn and Gina to make them. Which meant, I’d be bribing the women to make everything all in one go so I got my information faster.

Making my way through the crowd of horny men in their twenties, I headed in the direction I’d watched her leave. Still, no one said anything about the guy I’d just dropped. Were these fuckers for real?

Wait. Of course they were for real. I’d just answered that question when I’d made the judgment they were horny men in their twenties. Every ounce of blood flow that should have gone to their brains had likely gone straight to their dicks. Given the link between sex and violence, those guys wouldn’t notice anything short of a bomb blast.

I hurried around the stage and saw her. Leaning against a concrete wall next to the women’s bathroom. She had her hand over her stomach, and then she leaned forward and vomited.

“Sweet God above.” Another woman emerged from the bathroom in a skimpy bikini like everyone else had on. She gave my girl a disgusted look, her tone of voice irritated in the extreme. “Girl, you’ve got to get a hold of yourself.” She snickered. “If I curled up in a pile of puke every time someone grabbed me on stage, I’d never get through even one contest.” She scrunched up her nose. “Not like you were ever going to win anyway.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, then twisted her ass toward the back of the stage. My girl sobbed as she finished vomiting.

I froze where I was as she fell back on her ass. She was half naked -- her bathing suit didn’t cover much -- huddling on the ground in a protective ball as she cried.

“Girl? He hurt you?” I knew he hadn’t, but I had no idea what her mindset was.

She shook her head but didn’t say anything.

“Girl? Need a verbal answer.” I stepped closer to her, careful not to spook her. I wasn’t sure how long I had before someone realized Mr. Handsy at the judges’ table was unconscious, or worse, and came looking for me.

“No.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood to her feet. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to touch me.”

“He shouldn’t have.”

She looked up at me with large, hazel eyes. “You hurt him.”


About the Author:

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.


Contact Links:

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/experiencethemagicmk

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress



Pre-Order Today:



This blog uses affiliate links.

Preorder Blitz ~ Head Over Heels by Gale Stanley ~ @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #HeadOverHeels #GaleStanley #SecondChane #Romance


Head Over Heels by Gale Stanley


Contemporary Romance, Second Chances

Date Published: December 27, 2024


About the Book:

One blind date and I fall head over heels. Then he ghosts me, leaving me brokenhearted and pregnant.

Aaron: When I meet Genesis on a blind date I fall head over heels. She’s younger than me and I know I don’t deserve her, but I want to see her again. But before that can happen, I’m arrested, handcuffed, and imprisoned for something I didn’t do. Thinking about Genesis is the only thing that keeps me from going crazy—until I find out she might be the one who framed me.

Genesis: I hate blind dates, but I change my mind when Aaron shows up at my door. He’s perfect in every way and I’m smitten at first sight. I can’t wait to see him again, but then he ghosts me, and disappears off the face of the Earth. Everyone tells me to forget him, but it’s not that easy. I’m head over heels for him –- and pregnant with his baby.




Read an Excerpt:

The shop clerk raved over my figure. “You can wear anything,”

While I called myself skinny, she called me svelte. “You could model,” she added over her shoulder as she pulled dresses off the rack for me to try on. She deposited them in the dressing room and told me to call her if I needed help.

Sighing, I undressed down to my cotton panties and bra, and inspected myself in the full-length mirror. Not much up top. I hope he won’t be disappointed.

Fuck him. It was just a blind date.

For the hundredth time I cursed myself for accepting this date. Going through all this hassle and expense for some loser was beyond ridiculous. I’d rather get a root canal. The only reason I hadn’t bowed out was because my mechanic had arranged it. The last time I brought my car in, he jokingly said that I should date a grease monkey like him. It was how he’d met his wife. He followed that with, “Hey, I know just the guy.” And I’d let him talk me into it.

Still, experience had taught me that blind dates never turned out well. Of course, most of my experience was thanks to my father, the District Attorney, trying to control my life like he controlled everything in the city.

I couldn’t even count the times he’d had his secretary fix me up with political hacks that would further his career. When I started ghosting them, he orchestrated chance meetings at the endless cocktail parties he threw for his political cronies. He planned to run for office someday and having a daughter married to a politico and campaigning for him would be a major boon to his career. The whole thing felt really creepy and manipulative. Nothing was more personal than who you fell in love with. Besides, my father and I were politically diverse. I would never vote for his bootlickers, let alone marry one. His attempts to play puppet master were doomed to failure from the beginning and a major reason why I moved out of his house and into the Dollhouse.

That’s what I named my micro apartment in the Signature Suites building. That sounded a lot swankier than it really was. My little piece of heaven was only four hundred square feet; one-room with a sitting slash sleeping area, kitchenette, and bathroom, but it was all mine.

I turned my attention back to the dresses. The good thing about having small breasts was that I could wear just about anything. The bad thing was that most men love big tits. I was enlightened when I turned sixteen. My father had given me a check and told me to get breast implants. Hurt and disgusted, I spent the money on a creative writing class and started a blog. I learned early on to do the opposite of whatever he wanted. If only my mother hadn’t gotten cancer and died when I was three. I hardly remembered her. Wiping away the tears, I vowed not to think about that now.

After slipping a dress over my head, I made a face in the mirror. “Ugh.” The hem hit the floor and the slinky material made me look flatter. It went back on the hanger, and I tried on number two. Too short, too black, too dressy. It was something my father’s secretary would wear to one of his political functions. I glanced at my watch and started to panic. I had no time to hit another store.

The green floral print with a halter top seemed promising. I tied it behind my neck, and twirled. Feminine and flowy, the hem landed between my knees and ankles. The bare back and built-in bra treaded a thin line between classy and slutty, but the dress flattered my figure and I had white strappy sandals that would work with it. The more I checked it out in the mirror, the more I liked it.

I looked at the tag. The price blew my mind. I hated spending money I didn’t have. My closet was full of jeans, leggings, and business casual for the photo ops I used to take with my father. If I cooperated with Bruce, I’d have a bigger apartment and lots of clothes, everything I could want, but I’d be selling my soul. Since moving out of the big brownstone, I’d been happier than I’ve ever been.

I stared at my reflection. I’d have to put it on a charge card. Is it worth it? It had been a long time since I bought myself something new and I looked good in it. That settled it. Fuck the price. It was indeed worth it. I changed quickly, and looked for the saleslady.

My car was still down the street where I left it. I’d heard that car thieves preferred old Toyotas for parts, but even they weren’t interested in my 2009 Corolla. Maybe the leaking fluid puddling under it warned them off. Shit. I wondered if I should continue to fix it or if it was time to ditch it. I just hated to cut the cord. The car was paid for and I couldn’t afford a new one.

I started it up and headed for home. I was a panicker, so when the car started shaking and vibrating, I freaked out. At least it didn’t die until I pulled in front of my apartment building.

Shit, shit, shit. I should have said no to the dress and canceled my date. All that money could have paid for car repairs. Those times when I doubted my decisions I would go to Kate for a second opinion.

Kate was my bf, my confidant, and my partner in crime. She was a voice of reason in my chaotic life. She was older than me and whip smart. Oddly enough I’d met her because of my father. Well, indirectly. Kate was a secretary in the mayor’s office. Two years ago, we met at a boring political function. All night we laughed at the pompous civil servants and public employees walking around with sticks up their asses. Including my father. Turned out that, despite our age gap, we had a lot in common, starting with the same sense of humor. We both liked good books and Sex in the City, and we could talk about anything and everything. Even when we haven’t spoken in a while, we could just pick up right where we left off.

Best of all, Kate didn’t judge me. Being older, she’d already been through the same things I was going through now. If two people were compatible then why not be friends, because age is just a number. At twenty-one I’ve already met so many assholes that I was super picky about friends and lovers. I didn’t have many of either because I believed in quality over quantity.

Kate picked up after several rings. “Hi, girlfriend. Getting ready for your big night?”

“I don’t know. My car died. I’m thinking I should cancel.”

“Do you want to cancel?”

“I’m torn. I already bought a dress, but I could return it.”

“Go for it, girl. Do you want to end up like me? Thirty-fucking-five on my next birthday and still single. Fear of forty is a real thing. Call him back and ask him to pick you up.”

“I can’t do that. He might be a serial killer. The whole idea was to meet in a public place.”

“But weren’t you fixed up by someone you know?”

“Yeah, my mechanic. He said he might be shooting himself in the foot because his friend is a mechanic, too, but he’s willing to lose my business if I like his buddy.”

There was a long silence.

“Kate? You still there?”

“Yeah. Just thinking. And I think you should keep the date. You might miss out on something good. Just keep me on speed dial, in case your plans change again, or you need me to rescue you. I’ll be home all night.”

“Kate, you’re the best.”

I felt so much better. Kate was right as usual. I really needed a night out and knowing she was a phone call away made me feel safer. I called Aaron and he immediately offered to pick me up. So far, so good. Please God, don’t let him be an asshole.


About the Author:

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.


Author Links





Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress



Pre-Order Today:



This blog uses affiliate links.

Book Blitz ~ Trifold Mirror by Chidiebere Eze ~ @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #TrifoldMirror #ChidiebereEze #Poetry


Trifold Mirror by Chidiebere Eze


Poetic Reflections on the One Who Saved Me

Faith-Based, Inspirational Poetry

Date Published: 08-11-2024

Publisher: God Manifest Publishing


About the Book:

TRIFOLD MIRROR is a collection of personal, insightful poems that reflect on the intentionality and individuality of the author's relationship with God. The poems apply biblical principles, which help demystify the complexities of Christian doctrines and empower readers to study the Word of God for themselves.

This contemporary collection is inspired by the Holy Spirit and addresses different life stages (as seen in the "hood" section - which features dark pages in the book). Each poem has its own personality, emotion, teaching, and Bible verse to reinforce the poem.


About the Author:


Dr. Eze is a writer with a passion for storytelling, traveling, and providing need-based scholarships to African students. She holds a doctorate in Pharmacy, a certificate in Entrepreneurship and Innovation, and a bachelor's in Biomedical Sciences. She is excited about her debut poetry collection and can't wait to share it with you!


Contact Links:









 

 



RABT Book Tours & PR

This blog uses affiliate links.

Monday, December 23, 2024

The Storm Descends (Demon Storm, Book Seven) by Valerie Storm ~ Young Adult Fantasy #YAFantasy #YA #Fantasy @Valerie_Storm


The Storm Descends
Demon Storm 
Book Seven
Valerie Storm

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
Date of Publication: 12/13/2024
ISBN: 978-1-956883-28-2 
ASIN: B0DMTF6L5Q 
Number of pages: 433
Word Count: 110731
Cover Artist: @Ginkahederling

About the Book:

The Catalyst is quiet.

Kari struggles with the damage she did when she lost control. Her loved ones suffered at her hands, leaving Ari scarred in ways she will never be able to ignore.

How he survived? Only the Seraph of Nalmi knows.

Then a request arrives, a simple task compared to everything else she has been through: travel as Freehaven's emissary and meet with Brianna, a now-ancient half demon who destroyed the first demon city across the sea - and who may have some information on defeating the Catalyst for good.  Kari, Ari, and Guine prepare to cross the Demon Sea...

But the shadows await them.

Purchase from Amazon

Read an Excerpt:

Kari knelt in a field of dark grass beneath a dark cloud pouring dark rain. Ari lay limp in her arms, dead to the world. She bowed her head over his prone body, colder than death even without the rain to drench them. It pattered, loud against her flicking ears—the only sound all around.

“Wake up, Ari, please,” she whispered to his chest, clutching him tighter. “Please.” Her voice broke, and a wail wrenched free.

“Love makes you weak.”
Kari’s head shot up at the whisper, but there was no one around. There was only the rain, hissing now, each drop harder and sharper.

“You are a plague.”

The whispers came from the rain, now searing pinpricks rather than drops of frozen water. Gritting her teeth, Kari lifted Ari, held him close to her chest, and ran.

“One day, you will wish for the power you forsake!”

Kari’s feet sloshed through thick, black puddles. She slipped and barely managed to roll onto her back before she and Ari fell. She grunted, struggled to get back up with his weight.

A beam of light broke the murky sky. Kari squinted at it; the sight filled her with an unexplainable, instinctual hope. She pushed off from the muddy ground—harder now with her and Ari both sopping wet—and ran for the light.

“PLEASE!” she screamed to the sky. “SAVE HIM!”

It was all she wanted; she would give anything—anything.

“You have a destiny.” This whisper was deeper, ancient—a voice so full of raw power, it grabbed Kari’s spine and forced her to straighten. “Vessels do not earn worldly attachments.”

Velthas. His pull was strong even now, even though she had not seen the Tree in weeks—months. Forced rigid, Kari dragged her eyes to the beam of light.

“Holy light,” she managed through a jaw clenched shut. She curled her fingers around Ari. “I forsake everything else to you.”

A ripple—the jarring snap of something breaking in her mind. Kari gasped and fell forward, barely catching herself on one hand before she collapsed on top of Ari.

The rain slowed, she thought; at least, she felt the pattering on her back less. She closed her eyes, hoping, wishing, praying.

Fingers touched her cheek. Her eyes flew open and found Ari’s eyes—green as the deepest forest. He lifted one corner of his mouth tiredly.

“You’ll carry my faith, won’t you?” he whispered. “My light?”



About the Author:

Valerie Storm was raised in Tucson, Arizona. Growing up, she fell in love with everything fantasy. When she wasn’t playing video games, she was writing. By age ten, she began to write her own stories as a way to escape reality. When these stories became a full-length series, she considered the path to sharing with other children & children-at/heart looking for a place to call home.

She can be found online:






This blog uses affiliate links.

Friday, December 20, 2024

#BookReview ~ Jingles by D.F. Jones ~ Women's Short Stories/Women's Fiction ~ @Author_DFJones @pumpupyourbook #HolidayRomance #Romance #Christmas #SantaClaus #Santa


With Christmas Eve fast approaching, Nick must convince Clara to trust in the magic they share before the magic fades forever—and with it, the spirit of Christmas itself.


Title: Jingles
Author: D.F. Jones

Publication Date: November 1, 2024
Pages: 96
Genre: Women's Short Stories/Women's Fiction

About Jingles:

Jingles by USA Today bestselling author D.F. Jones is a heartwarming tale set in the picturesque town of HollyHaven, where Christmas magic is more real than anyone could imagine. At the heart of this magic is Jingles, a beloved Christmas shop that has always been the town’s festive centerpiece. But this year, something is different—the magic is fading, and the very spirit of Christmas hangs in the balance.

Enter Nick, the reluctant heir to the Claus legacy, who’s been tasked with saving Christmas before it’s too late. While Nick knows the pressure is on, he isn’t expecting the key to saving the holiday to come in the form of Clara, a talented baker who runs the town’s cozy café, The Cinnamon Stick. Clara, still healing from past heartbreaks, has wrapped herself in the warmth of her bakery, keeping her heart and belief in magic safely guarded.

As Nick and Clara’s paths cross, sparks fly, and magical happenings begin to unfold around them. Nick sees something special in Clara—something that might just be the answer to restoring the holiday magic. But more than that, he feels a growing connection he can’t explain.

With Christmas Eve fast approaching, Nick must convince Clara to believe in the magic of the season and the love blossoming between them. Together, they must find a way to restore Christmas before it fades away forever.

Jingles is a feel-good, magical romance filled with the joy of the holiday season, perfect for anyone who loves a good dose of Christmas spirit, love, and second chances. It’s a gentle reminder that sometimes, the greatest magic of all is simply believing.

My Review:

Jingles is a wonderful holiday novella. 

With Christmas magic slowly fading from the town of HollyHaven, Nick Claus is aware of his need to assume the mantle of Santa from his father. The prophecy governing Christmas magic doesn't just include the retirement of the current Claus and the taking of the helm by Nick. Nick also must find the perfect partner. When he does, the realization of who Nick is and what her role would be, is overwhelming for Clara. Nick has the task of convincing Clara that magic and love are real.

The author did a wonderful job putting her own spin on the tale of Santa Claus. I love the prophecy concept. It's a unique twist on the Santa Claus legend. The novella is original and heartwarming.  The setting is festive and the magic bleeds off the pages and right into the reader's heart.

Jingles pulls the reader in with holiday magic and a sweet romance. I was captivated by the entire story. Nick and Clara are cute, wonderfully written, delightful characters. The romance is quick, but in a town filled with magic, it's not hard to believe in Nick and Clara's connection.

I was provided a copy of this book.

My Rating:



Jingles is available at Amazon

Read a Book Excerpt:


Nick ran his fingers over the delicate, gilded edges of the ancient book, its weight heavy in his lap, both literally and figuratively. The Saint Nicholas Revelation. The magic of Christmas resting on his shoulders? He had always imagined he’d carry on the family traditions, but not like this—not with the ticking of an unseen celestial clock urging him forward.

His father, Nicholas Sr., stood across from him, eyes weathered by centuries yet still bright with the same magic that pulsed through the very fabric of their family. He had seen countless Christmases come and go, carrying the burden of wonder and joy on his back like a well-worn cloak. But now, the mantle would fall to Nick, and it felt impossibly heavy. Between them hung a silent bond of understanding. The older man had walked this path once before, and while his demeanor was as steadfast as the North Star, Nick could feel his father’s concern beneath the surface.

“What if I don’t want to fulfill the prophecy?” Nick's voice wavered, betraying the doubt that had crept in under the cover of the predawn hours when uncertainty tends to dig deep.

Nicholas Sr.’s eyes softened, though his voice carried the weight of centuries. “It’s not about wanting, son. It’s about destiny. The magic isn’t just a job—it’s in our blood, the essence of who we are. There was a time when I asked myself the same question.” He paused, his gaze steady as he stepped closer. “But I won’t force you into anything. You've always had free will, just as I did. The choice is yours, but know this: without the magic, Christmas as the world knows it might just become another winter day. The joy and hope fade without someone to keep the spark alive.”

Nick swallowed, his throat dry as if the weight of his decision had sucked the moisture from the air. “But what if I fail? What if I’m not strong enough? You’ve had centuries to perfect it… I’m just—” He hesitated, unsure of how to put into words the inadequacy that gnawed at him. “I’m not you.”

A gentle and knowing smile tugged at the corner of his father’s mouth. “I never expected you to be. Each of us carries the magic in our way. I wasn’t my father either. But the magic… it grows with you, Nick. It shapes itself around your heart, your desires, your dreams. And yes, your fears, too.”

Nick’s hands gripped the book's edges, feeling the ancient, worn leather under his palms. It was alive with an energy he didn’t fully understand yet. “What if the magic’s not enough?”

Nicholas Sr. went to him, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “The magic is always enough. The question is, will you allow it to be? This world, this time we live in, needs more than ever what we have. It needs belief, Nick. Not just in the magic of Christmas but in something greater. In hope, in light, in the power of love to heal what’s broken.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the faint sound of the wind outside, gently brushing against the frosted windowpanes. Nick nodded, feeling the gravity of his potential choice settle over him like a cloak of invisible snow. He looked down at the book in his lap, which now seemed to pulse with ancient, expectant magic as though it were waiting for him to open it to begin the next chapter in their family’s story.

“The magic may be enough,” Nick said, finally meeting his father’s eyes. “But I’m not sure I am.” Nick turned his gaze to the large sash windows, where the snow-covered peaks of Reflection Ridge sparkled like a thousand diamonds under the afternoon sun. The sight was familiar, yet today, it felt distant. For a fleeting moment, he imagined life without the enchantment of the mountain, without the reindeer or the elves bustling about the workshops, and without the secret joy of slipping through time and space to bring wonder to children everywhere. Could he really bear the weight of that loss? “What about the store? What about Jingles? Items are selling like crazy, and the sales help create funds for those in need.”

Nicholas Sr. leaned back, his eyes reflecting the deep connection between their family’s magic and the store. “Jingles isn’t just a store, Nick. It’s an extension of you, of the magic that runs through your veins. Every ornament, every stocking, every trinket sold carries a touch of that magic. It’s why people feel a little more joy when they walk out of those doors, why they believe just a bit more. The magic within you breathes life into Jingles, and in turn, Jingles spreads that magic out into the world.”

Nick’s brows furrowed. “So, you’re saying if I don’t fulfill my destiny—if I step away—the magic in Jingles fades?”

His father nodded slowly. “That’s right. The store thrives because your belief and commitment to Christmas are embedded in every aspect of it. Without that, without you, Jingles becomes just another quaint holiday shop. The enchantment fades. It’s not just about selling ornaments; it’s about keeping the spirit alive. If your magic dims, so does the store’s. It’s all interconnected.”

Nick swallowed hard, the gravity of it all sinking in. But then a thought surfaced, one that gave him hope. “If I want to keep the store after the transition, is that possible?”

His father’s lips curved into a warm smile, the twinkle of Christmas magic in his eyes. “With Christmas magic, everything is possible, Nick. You can continue, Jingles—you can continue everything, but it must come from the heart. The Magic is about more than fulfilling a duty. It’s about love, belief, and a willingness to embrace the unknown. The store can thrive as long as you carry those things with you.”

Nick breathed out slowly, a tiny flicker of reassurance settling within him. He wasn’t just stepping into his father’s shoes—he could make this legacy his own. Nick took a deep breath and exhaled, the weight of the decision pressing in on him. “How does the transition take place, Father?”

Nicholas Sr. smiled, a gleam in his eye that Nick hadn’t seen in a while. “It starts with finding your soul mate. Without Mrs. Claus, the North Pole wouldn’t work how it needs to. Your mother and I have kept this going for centuries, but we’re ready to retire, to hand over the reins, so to speak, to you and a new generation.”

Nick blinked, feeling the ground beneath him shift. The enormity of it all—a legacy more significant than anyone—hit him anew. His father’s words echoed in his mind. A soul mate? It wasn’t just about magic, the North Pole, or Christmas. It was about partnership, about love. That, more than anything, had been the key all along.

“A soul mate? I don’t understand,” Nick muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his turmoil. “How does this even work? Am I supposed to conjure her with a spell? How do I find this woman—the one destined to be my partner of Christmas?”

Nicholas Sr. let out a chuckle, the sound tinged with nostalgia. “Love isn’t conjured, Nick. There’s no spell for it, no incantation. It’s not a trick or a treat. She’ll find her way to you, as your mother did to me, turning everything extraordinary in the most mundane moments.”

Nick frowned, the gears of logic turning in his mind. “But how will I even know? What if she’s just—” He waved his hand vaguely, “—some mortal passing through? What if she doesn’t believe in magic at all?”

“Ah,” his father said, his eyes twinkling with a secret knowledge. “That’s the tricky part. The magic only reveals itself to those who believe. She'll see it if she’s the one, just like your mother did. But you can’t force it. You can’t rush the magic.”

Nick wasn’t convinced. “And what if she doesn’t come at all?” He asked the question again, frustration creeping into his voice like frost over the windowpane. “What if I’m not cut out for this? For love, for magic, for any of it?”

His father tilted his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. “Then we live as mortals, and the world turns,” he said. “We adapt. We let Christmas become just another day on the calendar.”

Nick felt a surge of indignation at the thought. Adapt? That wasn’t in their blood. Adapting was for people who settled, who gave up the extraordinary for the mundane. His jaw tightened, a flicker of resolve igniting deep within him.

“I won’t let that happen,” Nick muttered under his breath, though the conviction rang between them like the unmistakable chime of a sleigh bell.

Nicholas Sr. smiled knowingly, a twinkle in his eye suggesting he’d once stood in this spot, facing the same dilemma. But he didn’t press further, allowing the weight of Nick’s choice to settle around them like the snow falling outside.

The room seemed to hum with ancient magic as if waiting for Nick’s next move. One thing was sure: time wouldn’t wait for him forever.

– Excerpted from Jingles by D.F. Jones, D.F. Jones, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author:


Ever wonder what it’s like to step into a world where angels, demons, witches, wizards, and time travel collide? That’s the magic D.F. Jones weaves into every story she tells—worlds where the supernatural and romance meet, pulling you in until reality and fantasy blur in the best way possible.

Before she became the USA Today bestselling author, D.F. Jones had a pretty different gig. She worked as a broadcast consultant at an ABC Affiliate in Nashville. But then, in 2015, she decided to downsize her ad agency to take care of her family and focus on something constantly tugging at her heart—writing fiction.

Writing, for her, is more than just putting words on a page. It’s her escape, a place where the stress of everyday life melts away, and anything is possible. And she wants to share that world with you. The stories she crafts aren’t just filled with magic—they’re packed with action, love, and characters you’ll be thinking about long after you turn the last page.

At home, D.F. Jones shares a love story of her own. She’s married to her best friend, a man who keeps her laughing every day. Together, they raised two incredible sons, who are the true lights of her life and the spark behind the heart and soul in her books.

When she’s not writing, you’ll probably find her in her flower garden. She loves the feeling of her hands in the soil, coaxing life from the earth just like she does with her characters on the page.

So, if you’re ready to escape into a world where love and the otherworldly go hand-in-hand, D.F. Jones is the perfect guide. Her books promise adventure, a bit of whimsy, and heart-pounding moments that’ll keep you hooked. Welcome to her world, where the impossible is just the beginning.







Sponsored By:


Winter Solstice By Nicola Solvinic, Author of The Hunter's Daughter ~ @NSolvinic ~ Supernatural Mystery, Serial Killer Thriller ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza ~ #ExtravaganzaGive@way



Winter Solstice
By Nicola Solvinic

The sun god is gone
He stripped the leaves when he went
Trampled the grasses 
And swept into the bronze sunset

The winter god is here
The stag-horned watcher
Known only by cloven tracks in the snow
And the weight of his gaze under snow-spangled lashes

Heavy twitching branches of green
Once obscured the moon in summer
That seething night
Of cicadas, crickets, bullfrogs singing 

Night’s perfectly still now
Except for the crunch of snow 
And the moon burns through skeletons of bare trees
With the thousand flickers of dead stars

Underground, curled in thick earth
Prey dreams of summer days, 
He will dig it up, drag it, bellowing and twitching
To the surface

In the red and white field
Prey races across the snows
He will overtake it, felling it
In a tangle of broken legs and sinew

He is the hunter in both seasons, king of these woods
Seething and silent
Searching out his precious sacrifices
Sunless, in shadow, he reigns.



The Hunter's Daughter 
Nicola Solvinic 

Genre: Supernatural Mystery, Serial Killer Thriller
Publisher: ‎Berkley 
Release Date: May 14, 2024
Hardcover: ‎ 384 pages
ISBN-10: ‎0593639723
ISBN-13: ‎978-0593639726

About the Book:

A hypnotic, sinister debut mystery about a seemingly good cop who is secretly the daughter of a notorious serial killer.

Anna Koray escaped her father’s darkness long ago. When she was a girl, her childhood memories were sealed away from her conscious mind by a controversial hypnosis treatment. She’s now a decorated sheriff’s lieutenant serving a rural county, conducting an ordinary life far from her father’s shadow. 

When Anna kills a man in the line of duty, her suppressed memories return. She dreams of her beloved father, his hands red with blood, surrounded by flower-decked corpses he had sacrificed to the god of the forest. 

To Anna’s horror, a serial killer emerges who is copying her father – and who knows who she really is. Is her father still alive, or is this the work of another? Will the killer expose her, destroying everything she has built for herself? Does she want him to?

But as she haunts the forest, using her father’s tricks to the hunt the killer, will she find what she needs most…or lose herself in the gathering darkness? 

Purchase Links:

Penguin     Amazon


Read an Excerpt:

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, Elena.”

A soft voice echoed from the other side of the house. I turned my gaze to a pile of rotted fallen beams. My dad sat there quietly in the dark, perched as he would in a tree stand in the forest. His hat was low over his head, and his rifle was slung over his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out at all.”

I whimpered.

He sighed.

“Are you a monster?” I demanded. The word didn’t seem adequate. “Monster” sounded like a word for fairy tales. Not my beloved dad.

He looked at the bodies arranged around the room. “Maybe.”

He stretched his legs and slid down the pile. I backed up against the rusted stove. Liquid sloshed, and something cold and wet splashed down my side. I recognized the smell immediately: curdled blood. A metal bucket turned over and crashed on the floor, spilling the rest of the blood over my sneakers.

I was frozen. I saw the outline of the door, and I should’ve run. But I was rooted in place, as motionless and helpless as any of these women.

My dad loomed over me. His face was strange, his eyes too dark and still. This man who stood over me was not my dad. He was some changeling who had come to take him, leaving an evil shell in his place. A monster.

“What have you done with my dad?” I croaked.

He reached out to touch my cheek. I flinched.

“Your dad is gone.” His voice was a low hiss, like rain in a gutter.

And I knew then what I saw. It was my dad’s Forest God, the one he called Veles, dark and terrible and devouring everything under this roof. He wanted me. I didn’t know if he meant to consume me like those other women or if the Forest God was wanting to do to me as he was doing to my dad, wearing my skin like his own . . .

The door crashed open. The Forest God spun, reaching for his rifle, but he was tackled by a snarling dog. Percival.

An armed shadow stood in the doorway. Agent Parkes. “Freeze,” he ordered.

The Forest God had no intention of obeying anyone’s orders. He wrestled with the dog, and the rifle went off. A new hole was blown in the roof, and I was partially blinded by muzzle flash and deafened by a gunshot in a closed space.

“Drop it!” Parkes commanded. His voice was faint and tinny over the ringing in my ears.

The Forest God scrambled away from the dog, kicking Percival in the chest. He sighted his rifle on the dog.

I screamed.

The Forest God hesitated for an instant—only an instant.

It was enough.

More gunfire, muzzle flashes. The Forest God tumbled across the floor. Parkes advanced on him, shouting, his shoes slipping in the blood. Percival was growling, clamping my dad’s right hand in his jaws. The rifle spun out on the floor, the barrel skidding up against my sneakers. It was hot, and it singed the rubber of my shoe.

“Put it down!” Parkes yelled. The man who had once been my father had gotten his hunting knife loose from his belt and was slashing at Percival. He’d pulled himself up into a half crouch, dripping on the floor, snarling like a cornered animal.

“Put it down now!”

I knew Parkes was going to kill my dad.

Trembling, I reached down for the gun at my feet.

 

About the Author:

Nicola Solvinic has a master’s degree in criminology and has worked in and around criminal justice for more than a decade. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and cats, where she is surrounded by a secret garden full of beehives.










a Rafflecopter giveaway
This blog uses affiliate links.

Book Blast ~ The Case of the Reptile Rescuing Receptionist by Debbie De Louise ~ #CozyMystery @Deblibrarian


The Case of the Reptile Rescuing Receptionist by Debbie De Louise

About The Case of the Reptile Rescuing Receptionist:

 

The Case of the Reptile Rescuing Receptionist (Buttercup Bend Mysteries)

Cozy Mystery

5th in Series

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Independently Published (November 19, 2024)

Paperback ‏ : ‎ 230 pages

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8300479671

Digital : Next Chapter (November 18, 2024)

ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0DNJD7RTM

goodreads badge

Newlywed Cathy Jefferson is looking forward to a peaceful honeymoon on Long Island with her husband, Steve - until she discovers a body near their cottage. The victim is a former hotel employee who seems to have died from venomous snake bites. When the hotel manager pleads for Cathy’s help to clear his name, she reluctantly agrees, enlisting her friends Nancy and Mildred to join the investigation.

As Cathy and her friends dig deeper into the case, they uncover a tangled web of suspects, from Brenda’s ex-husband to eccentric reptile rescue volunteers and hotel staff with plenty to hide. The fifth book in Debbie De Louise's Buttercup Bend cozy mystery series, THE CASE OF THE REPTILE RESCUING RECEPTIONIST, will test Cathy’s sleuthing skills - and courage - like never before

About Debbie De Louise:

Debbie De Louise is a retired librarian. She’s the author of 20 novels including the six books of the Cobble Cove cozy mystery series featuring Alicia the librarian and Sneaky, the library cat, and the Buttercup Bend cozy mysteries featuring Cathy Carter, the owner of a pet cemetery and rescue center. Debbie’s other books include standalone mysteries, a paranormal romance, a time-travel novel, and a collection of cat poems. She also writes articles for Catster.com and has published dozens of short stories and poems in anthologies. She’s a member of the Cat Writers’ Association, Sisters-in-Crime, International Thriller Writers, and the Long Island Authors Group. She’s recently moved from Long Island to South Carolina with her husband, daughter, and two cats. Learn more about her and her books by visiting https://debbiedelouise.com.

Author Links:

Website/Blog/Newsletter Sign-Up: https://debbiedelouise.com
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2bIHdaQ
Debbie’s Character’s Chat Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/748912598599469/
Sneaky the Library Cat’s blog: https://Sneakylibrarycat.wordpress.com

Purchase Links:

This blog uses affiliate links.