Series Blitz

Grim Sinner’s MC by LeAnn Ashers

In the mood for some hot alpha bikers?

The Grim Sinner’s MC Series by Leann Ashers is available on all platforms. 

Amelia

I’m screwed. 

I‘m screwed, plain and simple. How, you ask? This tattooed, bearded alpha popped into my life and took it over, driving me insane.

Am I complaining? Hell no.

Do I love him? Yes, more than anything—and his daughter too.Lane is everything to me. He came into my life when I needed him the most. I just didn’t know it at the time. He completes me. He is someone I have waited for my whole life.

Lane

This five-foot-two, feistier-than-shit woman came into my life and knocked me on my ass.

She brings out every protective instinct I have, and I’m ready to go nuclear if someone even looks at her.

I love two people in this world more than life itself: Amelia and my daughter, Tiffany.

Someone made the biggest mistake of their life by trying to take them both away.

Game on.

Purchase Links:
Amazon:
https://amzn.to/2WXmW5U
Apple:http://apple.co/2AQFaL1
BN:http://bit.ly/2AJnD6A
Kobo:http://bit.ly/2juV9dy

Joslyn

My life was an absolute mess, and it was slowly killing me.

Dismay and anguish defined my everyday life.

Until Wilder.

He became what I’d never known I craved.

He was my world, my best friend.

For once…I was happy.

Until it all started crashing down around us.

Wilder

From the moment I’d met Joslyn, she’d been my everything.

I’d never expected to have her in my life, but she was finally mine.

There was no way I was going to lose her.I would lay down my life to keep her safe.

My MC has been my life. Danger has never been uncommon.

I was made for this lifestyle, but now Joslyn’s in danger too.

They’ve messed with the wrong MC, and now we are coming for them…May they rest in pieces.

Game on.

PURCHASE LINKS:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2uOtyH8
Apple: https://apple.co/2GR16Ya
BN: http://bit.ly/2GOxNG1
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2GSTS6k

Bailey

Being the single mom of a beautiful five-year-old was hard. I’d struggled since the day I gave birth to my daughter when I was eighteen. So when we got the opportunity of a lifetime—to start over somewhere new—it was a no-brainer. We had to go.

What I never expected was to find him.

With one look, our whole world changed. Travis became everything to us. For once, we were carefree and happy. We had everything we’d always dreamed of.

Then things started happening…

Travis

Bailey came out of nowhere and changed my life completely. I’d never known what living was until her eyes connected with mine and my world imploded. My days now revolved around her and the beautiful little girl I loved as my own.

Bailey and her daughter were now my family, and I vowed to protect them at all costs.

What I never expected was for someone to want to hurt Bailey.

If he ever tries to breathe the same air as Bailey and Gabby again—that’ll be the last thing he’ll ever try to do. By the time it’s over, he’ll consider Hell a welcome treat.

PURCHASE LINKS:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3k8D3uT
Apple: https://apple.co/2UbCkO4
BN: http://bit.ly/2FNt1ek
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2uMAnsx

From the day she came into my life, I knew I couldn’t walk away from this girl. She was beautiful, a light in this dark and messed up world, but I saw it in her eyes.

I saw the pain she carried, and in that moment, I made a promise.

Her demons would pay. All of them. They didn’t know what I was capable of or what my MC could do.

As I now look down at yet another lifeless body, I smile. I always keep my promises.

One more to go, and he’s the one I really want.

And he knows I’m coming for him…

PURCHASE LINKS:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3k8D3uT
Apple: https://apple.co/2UbCkO4
BN: http://bit.ly/2FNt1ek
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2uMAnsx

Brittany

He watched me from afar for over a year.

Everywhere I went, he was there. His eyes on me.

Little by little, he got closer. He stalked his prey…and that prey was me.

But I wanted to be caught.

I wanted to be his.

I wanted him just as much as he wanted me.

So I gave into him.

I was his.

Derek

She was mine.

She had been from the second her eyes connected with mine from across the room.

I waited.

I watched and when she was ready, she became mine.

She owned all of me, heart and soul, and I owned every single piece of her.

Problem was, someone else decided they wanted her too.

But nobody threatens her and lives to tell the story.

PURCHASE LINKS:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Xe5Bbp
Apple: https://apple.co/2UvmOKj
BN: https://bit.ly/3apvvg9
Kobo: https://bit.ly/2wyA8Wd

I spent the last ten years of my life as a SEAL fighting for my country. Coming home to my MC was everything I imagined. That is, except for her.

I never dreamed I’d meet the woman that would end up owning my heart. Lynn and her little girl, Michaela, quickly became my entire world.

But Lynn’s past resurfaced and they’re practically begging me to rip them into pieces.

Someone tried to kidnap Michaela, but they didn’t expect me to be there. And now? They’re coming after Lynn.

The sinner in me is seething, and it’s my time to make them pay.

PRE-ORDER LINKS: – Releases Dec. 7th!
Amazon: https://bit.ly/TristanAmazon
Apple: https://bit.ly/TristanAPPLE
BN: https://bit.ly/TristanNOOK
Kobo: https://bit.ly/TristanKOBO

MEET THE AUTHOR:

LeAnn Ashers is a blogger-turned-author who spends her days reading and writing. She released her debut novel early 2016, and can’t wait to see where this adventure continues to take her. LeAnn enjoys writing about strong-minded females and swoon-worthy, protective alpha males who love their women unconditionally.

AMAZON | INSTAGRAM | GOODREADS | FACEBOOK
TWITTER | READERS GROUP | BOOKBUB

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Cover Reveal

BAD GIRLS BREAK HEARTS, by Susan R. Horsnell


★✩★ COVER REVEAL ★✩★

Bad Girls Break Hearts

By Susan R. Horsnell

Cover Designer: Shower of Schmidt Designs 

Release Date: December 3

Hosted by DS Book Promotions



AMAZON – Pre Order

US  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09M897WK1 

 UK  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09M897WK1 

 AU  https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B09M897WK1 

 CA  https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09M897WK1 

Available on Kindle Unlimited


Blurb:

My life in a nutshell…

I felt like I was holding a f***ing bingo card and wondered what would be thrown at me next. 

Drug addict mother killed. Check. 

Foster family slave. Check. 

Adoptive father killed. Check. 

Evil uncle. Check. 

Beatings. Check. 

First man who loved me killed. Check. 

Prison. Check. 

Unexpected pregnancy. Check. 

B.I.N.G.O. For f*** sake!


About Susan R. Horsnell:

Susan R. Horsnell writes steamy romance from mild to hot. 

Strong social themes are a feature in her books.

She grew up in Manly, NSW, Australia and has travelled Australia and the World on postings with her Naval Officer husband of 47 years.

She lives with her husband, and fur baby – Gemma-Jean, a one-year-old Jack Russell Terrier, in a small village in the mountains in Queensland, Australia.

Since retiring a nursing career of 37 years, she has bene able to indulge her passion for writing.

The family enjoys travelling the country with their RV when not at home renovating. 



Follow Susan Here:

✶Amazon  https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B09MPDC8YB 

✶Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/susanrhorsnellauthorofsteamyromance 

✶Email  susanrhorsnellsteamyromance@gmail.com 

✶ Newsletter  http://eepurl.com/hyPb5L  

✶ Linktree  https://linktr.ee/SusanRHorsnell

✶Website https://horsnells.wixsite.com/steamyromance 


Release Blitz

DASH

Title: DASH
Author: Victoria Jayne
Genre: Contemporary Romance, MC Romance, BDSM
Cover Designer: Deranged Doctor Designs

Editor: Toni Rakestraw
Publication Date: Nov. 30th, 2021
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR


Blurb:

Sticks and stones will break his bones, but floggers, whips, and canes excite her.

 

Dash came to Ohio to serve as interim vice president and help fix their recruiting problem. But when the long time President dies, their territory is in jeopardy.

 

Between the stress of a dwindling chapter and the reluctance to institute the planned regime change, Dash sought a club woman for comfort. However, when his tastes became a little too much, she declined. Further frustrated, he turned to the internet and flirted with an aptly named woman: GINGERSNAP.

 

Getting back in the saddle after her self-imposed exile Liz “GINGERSNAP” Martin takes a chance with him. He seems like everything her ex wasn’t – confident, dominant, and most importantly not a criminal – or so she thought.

 

Two out of three ain’t bad, right?

 

Their scenes can light the world on fire. He brings out her submission and makes her feel safe. But Liz struggles with the risks of trusting him.

 

Dash knows keeping her around means exposing her to the dangers of biker life.

It’s his role to protect her, even if that means from himself.

Victoria Jayne is the epitome of a Jersey Girl. She doesn’t [know how to] pump her own gas, enjoys pork roll, and grew up on the Jersey Shore. The only daughter sandwiched between two brothers, she was a bit of a Tom-boy as a child.

 

As an adult, she’s lived throughout the state of New Jersey. She graduated from Fairleigh Dickinson University with a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology. She earned her Masters degree in Marriage, Couples and Family Counseling from Walden University. She’s worked in the human services field since 2005.

 

She met her sports journalist husband in an online audio/visual chat room. After a few years of dating, they got married and have two darling daughters.

 

When not writing, Victoria enjoys baking with her daughters, rooting for the New Jersey Devils, thinking of home improvement projects for her husband, and staying up far too late chatting on Discord.

Author Links:

TikTok | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter

Goodreads | Bookbub | Website










Release Blitz

CITY OF THIEVES By Catherine Wiltcher and Cora Kenborn

This city tells a story of a man seeking vengeance…

City of Thieves, an all-new dark mafia romance in the multi-author Underworld Kings Series by USA Today bestselling author Catherine Wiltcher and International bestselling author Cora Kenborn is now available!

From bestselling authors Cora Kenborn and Catherine Wiltcher comes a new mafia romance where love is the most dangerous crime of all…

This city tells a story of a man seeking vengeance…

Renzo Marchesi gives me two choices when he walks into my art gallery:
Help him find his brother’s killer or suffer the consequences.

He’s a mafia prince…

Heir to the Marchesi throne.
A man consumed by his demons.
Beautiful.
Ruthless.
I don’t belong in his world, and he doesn’t belong in mine.

Still, I’m not the spoiled politician’s daughter he thinks I am…

This is the City of Thieves, where lies are hard currency and deception is the real art.
Trust no one.
Love no one.
Too bad I don’t follow my own rules…

They say black arrows make for bleeding hearts.
Now, I’m planning the ultimate heist for a man who never misses.

City of Thieves is an enemies to lovers mafia romance with no cliffhanger and a guaranteed HEA. For mature readers only.

Grab your copy today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3jjSQGF
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/citythieves

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2XQODlw

Meet Catherine
Catherine Wiltcher is a bestselling author of eighteen dark romance novels, including the Santiago Trilogy. A stage 4 cancer thriver and a former TV Producer, she writes flawed characters who always fall hard and deep for one another, whatever the cost.
She lives in the UK with her husband and two young daughters. If she ever found herself stranded on a desert island she’d like a large pink gin to keep her company… Cillian Murphy wouldn’t be a bad shout either.
Connect with Catherine
Website: https://catherinewiltcher.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/catherinewiltcher/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/kidsversuscopy1
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/catherinewiltcherauthor/

Meet Cora
Cora Kenborn is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes in multiple genres from dark and gritty romantic suspense to laugh-out-loud romantic comedy. Known for her sharp banter and shocking blindsides, Cora pushes her characters and readers out of their comfort zones and onto an emotional roller coaster before delivering a twisted happily ever after.
Cora believes there’s nothing better than a feisty heroine who keeps her alpha on his toes, and she draws inspiration from the sassy country women who raised her. However, since the domestic Southern Belle gene seems to have skipped a generation, she spends any free time convincing her family that microwaving Hot Pockets counts as cooking dinner.
Oh, and autocorrect thinks she’s obsessed with ducks.

Connect With Cora
Website: http://www.corakenborn.com
Facebook: http://bit.ly/CoraFB
Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/CoraTAA
Twitter: http://bit.ly/CoraTwitter
Instagram: http://bit.ly/CoraInsta
BookBub: http://bit.ly/CoraBookBub
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/CoraGR

Release Blitz

HIDDEN

 

Title: Hidden
Author: Lea Cherry
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
Editor: Monique The Editrix
Cover Designer: Starlight Designs
Publication Date: November 30th, 2021
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR

Good vs. Evil; Witch vs. Warlock; Pure vs. Tainted.

 

Being the last remaining descendant of a powerful magical race was not what Amy had in mind for her summer, but when her powers unlock after being attacked, there was no turning back to what she thought was normal.

 

She must learn how to control her powers, for a dangerous enemy has his sight set on her and he won’t stop until he has what he’s been after for four hundred years.

 

Not only does her life hang by a thread, but the balance of the world relies on her being ready for the fight of her life as the Tainted is coming for her.

 

And he wants her power, her magic… her soul.

 

For fans of Jana Oliver, C.L. Coffey and Jen L. Grey.


Get your copy now, dive down deep into the world of the Descendants and let your magic guide the way.



Lea Cherry is an international bestselling author residing in South Africa with her husband and two daughters. With a Bachelor’s degree in Creative Writing, she shares the spark of language in Young Adult, Fantasy, Horror, and Thriller. When she is not crafting stories, she shares her time with her family watching movies, painting, and reading up a storm when she is not exploring the outdoors on camping trips. Her first book in the Descendant series is set to arrive in 2021 and is filled with magic and adventure that will keep you wanting more.





Release Blitz

The Chief

Title: The Chief

Series: Under Red Sky, Book Two

Author: J Calamy

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/30/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 93200

Genre: Contemporary Thriller, LGBTQIA+, action/adventure, criminals, consulate, military, foreign service, genderfluid, gender-questioning, bisexual, pansexual, PTSD/post-traumatic stress, Cognitive Disability, TBI survivor, Over 40

Add to Goodreads

Description

Legendary counter-terrorism agent Natalie Chevalier is finally retiring. The first nonbinary Regional Security Chief in DSS history, Nat’s last post lands her on the gorgeous sapphire isle of Sri Lanka. All she wants is a few peaceful months before she retires, and an anonymous hookup with a gorgeous, bisexual surfer is the perfect start. Until Nat learns that he is her final assignment. Alessandro Benitez travels the world buying gems, surfing, and raising his teenage brother Max. His is a charmed, luxurious life made possible by his position laundering money for Red Sky, the biggest crime syndicate in Southeast Asia. When Alex meets Nat, their scorching encounter leaves him questioning not only his precarious career choice, but also whether his life has been as charmed as he’d thought. Tasked to spy on him and persuade him to defect by any means necessary, Nat struggles to follow orders as her relationship with Alex heats up, blurring the line between professional and personal. She can’t deny how much she wants to be with him, but helping him means treason and erasing her ceiling-shattering career. While Red Sky destroys itself from within, Alex becomes trapped in a nightmare as everyone he knows either defects or turns up dead. His loyalty to the elusive boss of Red Sky is absolute, but he’s desperate to escape before he or his brother gets caught in the crossfire. As his world crumbles around him, Alex realizes Nat is the only person he can trust. While Nat’s feelings for Alex grow more complicated, the CIA’s desperate methods to bring down Red Sky call into question everything she once thought she stood for. Now she must expose her dirty boss and get Alex safely out of Red Sky before her reputation and her heart suffer the consequences.

Excerpt

The Chief J. Calamy © 2021 All Rights Reserved Natalie Sri Lanka Five a.m., the beach road cut ruler-straight through the blue shadows of the city, and Chief Natalie Chevalier ran, US Marines at her back, her mind a roiling mess. If Donovan hadn’t dragged her out of bed, she’d still be curled in a ball, nursing her hangover and wallowing in post-anniversary drop. Jagged arrows of golden light interrupted the broken sidewalk under her feet, the tropical sun slicing between the grand old hotels and shining new high-rises. The light was a jab in the eye. Darker sunglasses. She needed much darker sunglasses. “You run like a dude, Chief,” Donovan said. Nat didn’t slow down—while her mind tried to make heads or tails of what he meant. Blinking the sweat out of her eyes, she held up her hands in the universal gesture of what the hell? Master Gunnery Sergeant Casey Donovan was the head of her Marines until an officer came to replace him, though if she had her way that would never happen. Tall and lanky, he was barely sweating, while she soaked through sports bra and shirt. She felt gross, pulling her head out of memories of the helicopter screeching like a banshee as it went down. It was hard to focus on this fresh-faced boy, even if he was a good friend. He looked her up and down, his lips pursed and a frown on his face. “Your form,” he said. “You definitely run like a male.” Oh, that. The Marines knew then. They knew, and it had made it all the way up their chain of command to Donovan. This was their…response. She cracked the first smile of the day. “That’s— Thanks, Gunny.” “You’re welcome, Chief,” he said and fell back to the others. That was their version of support. The Marines had no more than a guess that her gender was…in flux. But the trouble with scuttlebutt like that was it was almost always true. Donovan’s ham-fisted backward compliment, which would have gotten him written up anywhere else, was the Marines’ way of saying they supported her. They don’t want to make it a big deal, but they have my back. Feeling lighter, she ran at a steady, if not very inspiring, pace. The familiar crunch and thud of her footfalls, the occasional blinding cut of light—it was all part of her routine. She could do it without thinking. Sometimes, she’d come running into the embassy gate without even realizing she had left her apartment, caught up in her thoughts, still shaking off sleep. On one end of the beach road was her building, where she lived in a tiny apartment with spectacular views and sporadic power outages. Work was exactly two point two miles away, or thirty minutes if she timed it right. The sensible flats and suit jackets, the discrete pearl earrings, armor, and gun: all waited in the embassy. She could leave her place with nothing but her phone and wallet. Today, she felt every step—forty-two-year-old knees and ankles, enough of a hangover to make the shards of sunrise painful. She had suffered through the anniversary alone, drinking far too much bourbon for a Sunday night. The waves smacking the seawall mostly drowned out the occasional laughter of the men at her back. She didn’t pay them any mind, as used to them as she was to the road. Ever since she took the posting in Sri Lanka, she had a couple of Marines with her wherever she went. Three years of Marines. Jesus. Served her right for all those jarhead jokes she’d made when she was in the Army. She had never been a fast runner. Not at twenty, as a shiny new buck sergeant, not at thirty, when she made the biggest bust of her career, and not now. Why am I even doing this? I retire this year. Out here torturing myself for no reason. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She wiped the sweat off her forehead again. Hard enough to get men to follow a woman, but worse if they thought she was slipping. “Y’all don’t have to run this slow,” she said over her shoulder. “I know those jackrabbit legs want to go on ahead.” They took off, their legs swallowing the sidewalk, already racing each other, and Nat was alone with her thoughts again. Crashing helicopters and the primordial jungles of Congo. Damn she missed it all. Days like today depressed her. Meetings and paperwork—the well-earned plum posting for a wounded her0—as dull and out of the way as can be. She turned down the side path, cutting around to the Cardamom Hotel, to Lakshmi’s. She’d had a rough night. She wanted a donut. “Chief Chevalier!” Lakshmi waved from the kitchen. Nat waved back over the scrum at the counter. “It’s already waiting for you!” Lakshmi said, pointing to the side before she disappeared in a cloud of steam. The little paper bag was there, with the last decent cup of coffee of the day. The to-go cup had a piece of tape over the mouth to keep the flies out. Nat peeled it back and took a long sip. Strong, not too sweet, a little cinnamon in there because Lakshmi loved her. She would miss this so much when she was gone. “Nobody loves you but me!” Lakshmi called. Nat blew her a kiss and made her way up the shady side of the street to the embassy. The intersection was hair-raising enough to wake the dead, so she didn’t touch her coffee until she had made it across, dodging tuk-tuks and diesel-spewing trucks and all the high-end new cars. They made a wall of cacophonous honking and revving with the brrrrrrrt! of the tuk-tuks over all. As she watched, a red tuk-tuk, all tricked out in chrome, zipped around a taxi, popped through a gap left by a new Honda, and sped past her so fast she was glad she held her coffee away from her body. Colombo was booming since the end of the civil war, and the cars, along with the gleaming high-rises, were the evidence of how fast it was growing. Nat took in a deep, happy breath. The whole concept of being somewhere after a war instead of in the thick of it was already a dream. A plum posting. A well-earned plum. Her joy lasted until she reached the gates. The Marine on duty and she were midconversation when a Blackhawk whump-whumped in overhead. The construction of the new embassy meant the detour took the bird right over the front gate, its rotors blasting the poor locals in line for visas, wrecking carefully pressed suits and saris, and nearly tearing off the awning. “My fucking awning!” Nat hauled the radio off the Marine’s desk and cut straight over the entire network. “The pilot of that bird will be in my office at parade rest in ten minutes, log and manifest in hand. Chief out.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

J Calamy is a disabled vet and foreign service wonk who spends a good part of the year bouncing down dirt roads in the back of Range Rovers with men with guns. Coffee, romance novels, and embassy scuttlebutt are her last remaining vices.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

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Release Blitz

Love on the Rise

Title: Love on the Rise

Author: A.C. Thomas

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/30/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 42100

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, Christmas holiday, Italian bakery/ baker, banker, soulmates/ love at first sight, money woes, small-town community, pastry love

Add to Goodreads

Description

Matteo Leonelli is getting by, running his old-fashioned family bakery in the heart of Belleview, North Carolina. He’s struggled to keep the place going since his parents passed, and his cakes don’t taste the same without someone to share them. Then, Matteo meets Ethan, a thoughtful, handsome artist, who sees Matt in a way no one has before, who touches him as if it’s a privilege. One date, and Matt is in love, dancing among clouds of meringue as he bakes up a storm to prepare for the holidays. Ethan Price is getting by, running his family banking firm. He had to abandon his dreams of becoming an artist, but he gives it his best effort in his father’s memory. Then, he meets a man who makes his stress melt away like butter on warm bread. Matt, who smells like cookies and looks like a Caravaggio painting. Ethan is in love, head over heels as he rushes through the business of the day so he can see Matt again. He plans to sweep him off his adorable feet. Disaster strikes as Matt’s bakery loans come due during the holidays. The news is just as shocking as the man who delivers it. Ethan isn’t the sensitive artist of Matt’s dreams, but a cold-hearted banker, and Matt’s heart crumbles like shortbread. As Christmas draws near, Matt works to save his bakery, while Ethan works to win him back. Beneath the sparkling lights of bakery windows displaying holiday treats, they must decide: can Ethan reconcile his passion for art and his love for Matt with his obligations to the family business? Can Matt forgive Ethan and open his heart to a love so sweet it outshines his pastries? With determination, well-placed mistletoe, and a dash of cinnamon, they just might.

Excerpt

Love on the Rise A.C. Thomas © 2021 All Rights Reserved It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Matteo Leonelli had finally gotten laid. He whistled some Sinatra as he patted down the dough for the next morning, then covered it with a clean flour cloth to rise overnight. Suppressing a yawn, he piped the last batch of the cupcakes of the day with lemon cream. Lemon was the theme because Matt felt like a tart in the best way possible. Sweet and sharp and bright with satisfaction. And, notably, like the guy who had gone home with his date the night before. Nothing could bring him down, not even the slow grip of sleepiness tugging on his heels. Matt’s date had kept him up all night, and he’d only gotten a few hours of rest. Matt had stayed over, even though he needed to be in the bakery by 4 a.m. to start the bread and pastry for the day. It had been worth it. He could have happily worked all day on zero hours of sleep if his date, Ethan, hadn’t curled up around him after round two, long limbs wrapped as tightly as the wisteria vines that climbed the bakery porch. He had been big and warm and whispered sweet nothings into Matt’s sweaty hair until they’d both fallen asleep. Matt hadn’t even minded being the little spoon, although sometimes it rubbed him the wrong way when people just assumed. They thought since Matt was small, that was where he belonged. Ethan had never commented on his size. In any measure. Matt was short and compact, not svelte by any means, but he wasn’t muscular either. He existed somewhere in the soft, gray area in between. Strong enough to haul fifty-pound bags of flour but equipped with a layer of padding from tip to toes. That used to bother him, but as he’d gotten older, he’d only grown more comfortable with himself. He didn’t worry about his perpetual lack of abs so much anymore. He was a baker, not an athlete. Sure, things had been rough when he was a kid, and his classmates had called him names like “doughboy.” But now? He was finally comfortable with himself. Comfortable enough to fuck with the lights on. All the better to appreciate the view of his partner. And, oh, what a spectacular view it had been. Ethan was classically handsome, like an Old Hollywood heartthrob, and deceptively willowy in his clothing, but all wiry muscle underneath. His height merely gave the impression of slenderness because he was so stretched out. But there was plenty of him to hold on to. His broad shoulders had provided a firm, solid ledge for Matt to cling to, and his big hands had caressed Matt’s few extra pounds as if they were something to covet, a bonus in his eyes. As if there weren’t an inch of Matt that was extra or overflow. It had felt as if he truly appreciated every ounce of him. Matt could count on the thumbs of both hands how many times a lover had treated him like that, as though he were nothing less than irresistible. It was addictive. So today, Matt was floating on a cloud, lighter than his nonna’s famous meringue. He bit back a grin as his phone buzz-buzz-buzzed with a text notification, the fifth one from Ethan since Matt had reluctantly crawled out of his hotel room before dawn. The guy had no chill, but Matt wasn’t exactly complaining. Can’t stop thinking about you. It’s impossible to focus on work when I know you smell like cinnamon sugar and sex. I just want to lick you all over to see if I can find the source. Oh, cheese crepes, that was hot. His cheeks burned after reading that one, hotter than the antique brick oven at his back. Matt fanned himself surreptitiously while he checked the clock. All he had left for the day was a meeting with the bank, and then he could leave the bakery to Miz Rose to run upstairs and get ready for his date. His second date in as many days. Matt had big plans. He was even going to exfoliate, and he didn’t do that for just anybody. He hoped Ethan would appreciate the snickerdoodle scent of his sugar scrub. Neither of them had been able to pretend they didn’t want to see each other immediately after last night. It was refreshing to meet someone who laid all his cards on the table, who didn’t play games. Maybe Matt was acting like a lovestruck fool, but so was Ethan. They were in the same ridiculous romantic boat, and he had never felt better. He was finally lucky in love. It had only taken a decade. He hurried to finish the cupcakes, prepping for the lunch rush before his meeting with the bank. The bakery usually flooded with locals around noon, and he didn’t want to run out of cupcakes again. Last time, the lovely ladies of Central Presbyterian had threatened a riot. The year-round jingle bells attached to the bakery door rang out their cheerful call, and Matt set down his pastry bag to turn with a smile on his face. A smile that immediately froze once he saw who had walked through the door. Ethan. He looked much less approachable than he had the night before, in his soft sweater and jeans, rangy limbs sprawled around the table to brush up against Matt wherever he could, charming smile framed by an artful scattering of dark stubble. Now, he wore a black suit and carried a briefcase. A man of the exact same height and coloring followed him, dressed so similarly he’d be identical if not for the bald patch on his head contrasting with Ethan’s thick chestnut waves. Ethan stumbled, staring wide-eyed across the shop at Matt as his companion walked right into him with an irritated curse. Ethan’s pale skin flushed pink as he stepped aside and avoided Matt’s searching gaze. Instead, he lifted his briefcase to the nearest tabletop to fiddle with the latch. What on earth was he doing here? Matt hadn’t given him the address to the bakery. They hadn’t even exchanged last names last night, the chemistry between them so strong they’d barely finished their meal before stumbling love-drunk to Ethan’s hotel room. After that, they’d been too busy for conversation. Sure, they’d talked a little at dinner, but all Matt really recalled was the insistent thump of his heart when Ethan had first raised clear gray eyes to his. The low rumble of Ethan’s voice as he’d mentioned his hotel with a searching glance. The scrape of wallpaper against Matt’s shoulders when Ethan had pinned him to the wall the moment the door clicked shut behind them. All memory of their light conversation had faded in comparison. The balding suit held out his hand with a perfunctory approximation of a smile. “Mr. Leonelli? Preston Price. We’re here representing Price Banking. Where should we conduct the meeting?” Matt wiped his flour-dredged hands on his apron, then caught Price’s grimace as he gingerly shook his hand. Afterward, Price held it slightly out from his body as though he didn’t wish to touch any of his belongings until he had washed it first. Ethan just continued to stare into his briefcase as if it held state secrets.

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Meet the Author

A.C. Thomas left the glamorous world of teaching preschool for the even more glamorous world of staying home with her toddler. Between the diaper changes and tea parties, she escapes into fantastical worlds, reading every romance available and even writing a few herself. She devours books of every flavor—science fiction, historical, fantasy—but always with a touch of romance because she believes there is nothing more fantastical than the transformative power of love.

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When Love Calls Your Name

Title: When Love Calls Your Name

Author: LBJ Harris

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/30/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Female, Male/Male

Length: 91100

Genre: 1970s Historical, LGBTQIA+, 1970s, promiscuity, in the closet, college, bisexual, sexual discovery

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Description

When Desmond goes off to college, he allows himself to be more open about his attraction to men rather than the secreted-away experiences he’s had in the past. As Desmond grapples with the pressures and expectations society forces upon him, while trying to understand what his heart is telling him to do, he is initiated into a high-class gay underworld and attracts the attention of an influential—and potentially dangerous—closeted businessman. Set in the fictional coastal town of Oakvale, New Jersey in the mid-1970s—a decade of alternative eroticism, experimentation, and promiscuity—When Love Calls Your Name follows Desmond as he discovers who he is and who he is expected to be.

Excerpt

When Love Calls Your Name LBJ Harris © 2021 All Rights Reserved Fantasies. What teen doesn’t have them? We’re taught that boys’ fantasies revolve around lust, while girls dream of love and romance. As a young man, I certainly fit that mold. And while my boyhood fantasies came true—to an extent—they evolved somewhere along the way, from lust to love. Moreover, they ended up clouding my judgment so completely and ruling my heart so firmly that they changed my life forever. That evening, thoughts raced through my head as I stepped onto the field at the Oakvale High School stadium. The band played “Pomp and Circumstance” from the stands, and I wondered to myself, How many times have I sat up there, playing this same damn song for past graduates? How many times have I watched others walk the full length of this football field and wished it was me? Now it was my turn! I scanned the stands for my family, but the crowd of faces was a blur. Carla—my senior-year sweetheart—was by my side, and she had never looked prettier. Now, it had taken a little manipulation on my part to get her there next to me, but it had been worth it. Or so I thought. The day couldn’t have been more perfect. Ask, visualize, claim it, and it will be so. At the height of the day, it had climbed to eighty degrees: warm enough for us to catch a swim at the Ocean Club. Around four in the afternoon, a light breeze cooled the air down to seventy degrees. The glowing full moon peeked over the eastern horizon, the sun not yet having set, far to the west, with a cool pink and blue salutation. High above, the heavens were a dome of sparkling diamonds. The stage was set. My high school graduation had arrived. My name is Desmond Cameron Dawson. I am a Pisces, born on March 19; the middle of three children. My older brother is Calvin Vincent Jr., aged 25, whom we called Vinny. He attended law school at George Washington University in DC. My younger sister is Nina Nicole, who was to be a freshman at Oakvale High that upcoming fall. I had what was known as bougie parents (upwardly mobile Black people), who achieved their success ten years ago. They decided to move us away from Newark, New Jersey, to this white, ocean-side town called Oakvale. It was just off the Garden State Parkway, halfway to Atlantic City. Calvin Vincent Sr. and Mildred Nicole (Cal and Millie to each other; Mom—or, endearingly, Momma—and Dad to us) owned a small but prosperous advertising firm, with the original branch in Newark and a newer one here. Business was good—so good that my folks had achieved upper-middle-class status. They were good United Methodists too, raising their children in a predominantly African American church. We kids were acolytes; we sang in the choirs, did youth ministries. If you’re a United Methodist too, you know the drill. So, what the hell were we doing in good old Whites-ville, USA? To hear our parents tell it, they’d moved us down here to ensure we’d get a good education. And speaking of education, isn’t it funny, the things that run through your mind at milestones in your life? For instance, standing with my fellow seniors, waiting to march across that field, I thought to a time when—only five years old—I had been so sick I was unable to start school with the other kids my age. I’d spent a year visiting over a dozen specialists, undergoing every test conceivable, trying out all sorts of medications—all to no avail. My illness had been so bad, making me weak to the point where I couldn’t get out of bed even to go pee, that doctors had finally given up hope, telling my parents the devastating news they would likely lose their youngest son at some point that year. Momma wouldn’t accept it—not at all! She prayed long and hard—feverishly hard—and God answered her prayers. Miraculously, some weeks later, I had a full recovery. From then on, she would always tell me I was her prizewinning fighter. I skipped from this memory to a present one—to what I considered my second major accomplishment of my life (after surviving my illness). Imagine this, if you can: I was about to become the first African American in my predominantly white high school to graduate at the top of my class. First out of three hundred and ninety-six students! Yep—I beat all those white folks to the top of the list! And despite being in law school, my brother Vinny hadn’t come close to matching me in the brains department: he graduated high school forty-fifth out of three hundred and fifty. My parents were proud of me, to say the least. Their crazy-acting, late-blooming middle kid managed to get his shit together and come out on top. Top of my class, awards in French, history, and politics, captain of the debating team, top track athlete, and in the marching band, to boot. Momma cried tears of joy when the guidance counselor called to give her the news; Dad couldn’t stop calling our relatives to boast about his boy. You want to know how hard it was to become valedictorian? Well, I knew for a fact the girl who finished second to the top hated me with a passion. Miss Dirty-Blonde-Bombshell-With-Glasses had worked her ass off for every top grade she earned. But as for me? By the time grade nine rolled around, I’d figured out the game. From that point onward, I found all this school shit straight up easy. Yeah. I’m one of those kids. To an outside observer, everything in my life looked pretty good, right? The truth was, I couldn’t wait to be done with it. I was ready to leave this small, meddlesome, dysfunctional community that would have chewed me up and spit me out without even blinking an eye, had I let it. It was all good, though—I was on the verge of being done and had a foolproof plan to get out of here: I’d aced all my courses in school, gotten involved in the “right” extracurriculars, and scored 1600 on my SATs. And halfway through my senior year, I found out I had been accepted to some pretty prestigious universities, most of them with full scholarships: Princeton, Yale, Harvard, Temple, and Dartmouth. Not wanting to be too far from Momma but needing to put a bit of distance between me and Oakvale, I chose Temple University in Philadelphia—an hour and a half down I-95. Temple had a great communications and journalism program there—rated one of the top ten programs in the country. I’d decided I was going to be a television correspondent, and come September, I would be taking my first step toward television stardom! But back to graduation day. That ended up being a condensed reminder of the things I wanted to forget about high school, beginning—and not ending—with the memory of Samuel Garrison, an unexpected fantasy twist. I guess I need to explain some things before I go on. Samuel Garrison. My best and oldest friend in all of Oakvale. He and I had both been having…problems with our girlfriends that whole year. We’d ended up talking and consoling each other for much of that time. And before you ask the all-important question of who was getting poontang and who wasn’t: well, I was the less fortunate. Samuel and I spent a lot of time barhopping during that year as well. Two years prior, they had lowered the legal drinking age to eighteen. We had died and gone to heaven, my posse and I—they turned eighteen at different points during our senior year, while I had reached the drinking age the year before. And believe me, they didn’t miss a beat trying to catch up to me. We quickly established some favorite watering holes we took girls to, but we also reserved a spot for gents only. Every Friday night, we would sneak out to this strip club called The Cabaret. We couldn’t get enough of the place. Well, at least, Samuel couldn’t. Back to the posse—there were four of us who went through Oakvale High School together: Matt, Samuel, Michael, and me. We all played trumpet in the band together. We ran indoor and outdoor track. Two of us were on the yearbook committee. Matt and I acted in school plays together. We may as well have lived together, we spent so much time in each other’s company. I was the oldest of our group and the only brother. Did that make me feel uncomfortable at times? Yes! I was the butt of Samuel’s too-frequent racist jokes, and as I look back now, he was a real redneck. Yet there was more to him than that. When I moved to Oakvale, I was just an average seven-year-old kid. I didn’t know anything about racism or prejudice. All I knew was that I wanted a friend—someone I could simply play with. Samuel was that person. The day we moved in, I sat on the curb outside my new home, “staying out of the way of the movers.” Across the street sat a little boy, watching me. We stared at each other wordlessly for quite a long time. Finally, he yelled across the street, saying, “My name’s Samuel; what’s yours?” I called back, “Desmond.” Then he surprised me by saying, “You wanna be friends?” And not wanting to seem overly keen on the idea, I said, “Mmm…okay.” He stood up, looked both ways, and ran across the street. He held out his hand and I mine. We shook. And then he hugged me. It felt really strange, like a spark arcing between us; from that moment on through high school, we were essentially inseparable. Despite being close, Samuel and I didn’t attend the same school until high school. His parents didn’t care much for public schools, so he attended St. Catherine’s Catholic School until the end of eighth grade. The Catholics didn’t have a high school, so he had no choice but to transfer to Oakvale High for ninth grade. I introduced him to Matt and Michael, and just like that, he was one of the boys. I knew from then on, high school life would take me and him to another level. And it did.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

LBJ Harris was born on October 1, 1958 in Neptune, New Jersey. He is one of seven children born to civil rights leaders. His mother chose his first name because it was unique, as she knew her baby would grow to be. When he was seven years old, his parents moved the family to an all-white community, to ensure he and his siblings received a good education, and to guarantee their safety against opponents of their parent’s civil rights work. Harris knew from an early age that he loved performing on stage. Throughout his early years and young adulthood, he performed in church choirs, his high school band, and in the high school drama club. Upon graduating from high school, his love of the arts led him to West Chester State College in Pennsylvania. In 1979, Harris earned his Bachelor of Arts in Speech, Communications and Theater. While at college, he worked for the Three Little Bakers Dinner Theatre as a performer, lead dancer, and stage designer. His set designs and acting roles earned him major acclaim in local newspapers. In 1981, he moved back to New Jersey where he formed a two-man performing duo, a joint company KapSig and eventually his own company, ‘Le Noir Cabaret Repertory Theater Company’. Harris would move to writing, directing and producing originally written musicals for his local community as founder of Le Noir Cabaret. Those works included: ‘Moments in Love’, ‘An African American Musical Review’, ’SIBONISO’, ’Anna Mae’, and ‘Ashbury Cove’. Harris and his theatre troupe toured his musical SIBONISO in 1994 at the newly renovated Paramount Theater, Asbury Park, NJ, and at the Carver Community Center in San Antonio, Texas. In 1989 Harris chose to become a single father, adopting the first of his four children. He elected to place his arts career on hold after the arrival of twins in 1998. Over the next 15 years he focused on raising his four children and one grandnephew. In August of 1999, while completing a second Master’s Degree in Education, Harris saw the birth of one more child: his novel, “When Love Calls Your Name”. He finished the manuscript in April of that next year, though ultimately shelved it, along with a number of other unpublished works. After his youngest two children graduated from high school in June of 2014, Harris chose to return to the stage. That October, he appeared in the ensemble cast of African American men entitled, “Messages from Men: Machismo, Magen, Mirth & Maturity” at the Cape May Playhouse. He wrote and performed an original piece, “Letter to My Children”, in dedication to his children. With a renewed yearning to pick up his career where he left off, Harris anticipates publishing his first fiction novel, “When Love Calls Your Name” in the fall of 2021.

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Turnabout

Title: Turnabout

Author: Laury A. Egan

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/30/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 78500

Genre: Historical (20th Century), LGBTQIA+, teenage romance, lesbian, lesbian love, sailing, PTSD, Vietnam War, 1960s, first love, mother-daughter relationships, young writers, class differences, New Jersey, coming-of-age

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Description

The summer of 1964. Four teenage lives intertwine as each searches for love, identity, and a passage through painful family conflicts, social isolation, and the confusion of sexual orientation. During a sailing class, four teenagers meet. Jessie Schaffer is fourteen, an intelligent and solitary girl, who dreams of becoming a writer. When she sees nineteen-year-old Lindsay Ames, the instructor, standing on a dock, sunlight illuminating her blond hair and blue eyes, Jessie falls in love but is too afraid of her feelings and what they mean. In an attempt to reassure herself she is “normal,” Jessie becomes involved with two boys in the class: Kenny Crenshaw, also fourteen, a darkly handsome and flirtatious guy, and Calvin Brayburn, a year younger, who will be in their freshman class because he’s academically brilliant. On the first day of sailing, Cal is smitten with Jessie, though he is hindered by shyness. As the romantic relationships take unexpected twists, Jessie, Lindsay, Calvin, and Kenny relate their individual stories, their hopes, fears, and longings, all the while being buffeted by intense pressures. Set in coastal New Jersey, the plot roams from its beautiful rivers to lush scenes in St. Thomas and Vietnam’s jungles during the war.

Excerpt

Turnabout Laury A. Egan © 2021 All Rights Reserved Jessie “I’m not going!” I state this as a firm fact; my mother hears acquiescence. “And wear your new clam diggers and that boat-neck shirt I bought you.” “No! I feel like an idiot in those clothes!” My mother, who dresses perfectly for every occasion, arches an eyebrow, one that took hours to sculpt. “You are attending sailing class, and I want you to look nice. We will hear no more about it, Jessie.” When the singular “I” migrates into the royal “we,” my goose is cooked. “I will see you in the car. Ten minutes,” she says. After she leaves the room, I go to the closet, slip the fake nautical clothes off hangers, and throw them on the bed where I slump beside them. “I’ll look like a fool,” I mutter as I stare at the blue-and-white-striped shirt and the white clam diggers decorated with red piping and baby sailboats. I shut my eyes in frustration and follow imperial orders. « I’m standing by the entrance to the Lenape Sailing and Yacht Club, hoping my mother will reconsider and take me home. I turn to plead with her, but she’s already backing the big black T-Bird out of the drive, its whitewalls spitting sand four feet past its chugging tailpipe. For a minute, I picture the car getting stuck but no luck. It’s me who’s stuck. I scan the sky and beach. The morning sun has taken a hike, leaving a mash of clouds in its wake. The breeze sucks the tops off the cattails and raises goosebumps on my arms and the whitecaps on the river. With no real alternative, I walk through the clubhouse’s double doors, wishing I could fly out the other side, shoot off the dock, and do a Superman back home. Inside, it smells like salt air, tired sun, and dried old wood. About ten kids—probably my class—are milling around looking self-conscious. Even though they appear nervous, my years of experience tell me they’ll do just fine, once the preliminary jitters smooth off, while I will not. Oh, sure, I can pick up the sailing stuff, but the rest? I stand by the window, thinking I don’t like groups because groups don’t like me. “Hi.” I turn. A boy with thick glasses is staring at me with a curious expression. His hazel eyes, magnified by the lenses, appear intelligent. He has small cuppy ears, an epidemic of brown freckles across his face and arms, and bright-red hair cut in straight bangs and parted unevenly on the left side of his square head. The boy is a little hunched, as if he’s already apologizing for future tallness. Despite his neat green shirt and navy cotton shorts, he doesn’t wear his body comfortably. The kid looks as ill at ease as I feel. “Hi,” I reply, though I’m lukewarm in interest. I look over the group, hoping there is someone better to hitch up with. Most of the kids are about my age. Next week, on July 5, I’m turning fourteen. “My name’s Calvin Brayburn.” Calvin seems younger. Perhaps twelve nudging thirteen and oblivious to the huge barrier a year’s difference makes. “Mine’s Jessie.” “Jessie what?” He tilts his head and squints a little, as if his poor eyesight dulls his hearing. “Jessie Schaffer.” I’m not a chatty type, particularly with strangers, which includes just about everyone I’ve ever met. How can I lose this kid? Should I play it high and mighty or chilly-neutral? Then, the teacher enters from a side room, saving me the decision. “Hello, everyone. I’m Lindsay Ames, your sailing instructor.” Lindsay is tall, or at least she is from my five-foot-four perspective. Short blond curly hair. Blue eyes. Long arms and legs already tan from being outside. Can’t tell if she is a senior going to be a freshman or a freshman home from college. Probably four or five years older than I am. I breathe easier. I’m more comfortable around adults. Lindsay hands out mimeographed papers. “The parts of a sailboat and two pages of nautical knots,” she explains. “Don’t worry—we’ll go over them, but you’ll have to memorize the parts and how to tie a bowline and a cleat hitch by next week.” One of the girls giggles and nudges her neighbor. I don’t see anything funny about knots, but maybe that’s because I’ve already taught myself a few—Dad said this would be expected. “It’s too windy to go out today,” Lindsay continues, “so we’ll get acquainted and learn some of the basics.” She takes a seat in a wooden armchair, and everyone sprawls onto couches and chairs around her as if she’s going to tell us a story. I sit on the floor opposite and stare at the blue Keds’ stamps on the back of my white sneakers. “Let’s go around the room.” She nods to a girl with a ponytail. “What’s your name?” When the kid smiles, silver braces glint like chrome on a Chrysler grille. “Melinda Whitmore,” Ponytail replies. “Hi!” She jerks her hand in the air and gives half a wave. She’s growing boobs that overwhelmed her training bra a long while ago. “Hi, Melinda,” Lindsay replies. “Welcome aboard.” I’m not positive I like this sailor heartiness, but so far, Lindsay seems okay. She then points to a guy with black, wavy hair and dark Romeo eyes. “Hey,” he says in a false sheepish tone. “I’m Kenny Crenshaw.” Melinda and the other girls exchange blushing glances. Kenny is instantly crowned “king” without any contest. I’m no slouch at rating pecking orders in social gatherings. Of course, none of the girls look at me for confirmation, a fact I also file away in my mental account ledger. As if he senses his royal anointment, Kenny squares up his shoulders and drops his voice. “I already know how to sail,” he explains. “My dad has a boat.” “Oh? What kind?” Lindsay asks. Kenny Crenshaw smiles, confidence spreading across his face. “It’s a thirty-two-foot O’Day.” “Nice boat,” the instructor says, smiling. “So, you must be quite accomplished.” He stares at his feet and shrugs, as if he’s embarrassed. In that moment, my dislike of him rushes in like a squall. “Yes, I am,” he answers. “Sort of.” The “sort of” is another attempt to appear modest, though it doesn’t wash with me. His smug perfection stings like a pissed-off wasp. We’ll see who the better sailor is. I don’t have a clue why I’m feeling so competitive. Melinda’s friends are Janey and Gretchen. The three of them are jump-rope types. That’s how I used to classify the popular girls in elementary school. I never mastered their games—skipping rope or their other activity—flirting—and still nourish a fine disdain for both. Sure, back then, the girls let me play sometimes, so I wasn’t on the outer orbit of Pluto, but I wasn’t really accepted, which is typical of the flip-flop nature of my life. Graduation from eighth grade didn’t improve my standing with boys either, and neither did the spring dance, a perfect ten on the misery scale. My mother tortured me into going solo and wearing an itchy chiffon dress and patent leather shoes that pinched. I was the weed amid the wallflowers and didn’t dance once. I’m glad we just moved to Bingham, where I’ll attend high school and hopefully make some friends. There are four more students who introduce themselves: Steve, Cathy, Mary Lou, and Gene. The girls all cross their arms over their chests, protecting their budding growths, and the boys look careless and bored, like they’d just as soon be throwing rocks at beach rats. Everyone is sort of average looking compared to Kenny and Melinda, who, despite her dental work and giggles, has drawn the longest glances from the boys. Calvin is saving me from last place on the unpopularity register. When it’s my turn to say hello, I’m tempted to tell everyone my father has a sixty-nine-foot sailboat, just to see how it goes down. But one of my rules is that I only lie when I’m sure no one will catch on. Because I don’t know who makes boats that size, the last thing I want is King Kenny announcing there is no such thing. So, after giving my name, I clam up, ceding round one to him. At least Lindsay gives me a warm smile, but she smiles at all the kids. After that, we go outside and investigate a Turnabout, a little ten-foot catboat we’re using for our lessons. Lindsay gives us the port/starboard/stern/bow info, shows us how to tell which way the wind is blowing by the little pink ribbon fluttering near the top of the mast, and demonstrates how to attach and hoist the single sail. The whole time she does this, my new friend Calvin sticks to my side tighter than a tick. Whenever I look at him, he grins like we’re already buddies. Melinda and Kenny aren’t listening to Lindsay because they’re whispering and digging elbows into each other. Two hours later, when my mother arrives, I announce I don’t want to take sailing lessons anymore. She doesn’t listen.

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Meet the Author

Laury A. Egan is the author of the YA novel, The Outcast Oracle; three suspense novels, Jenny Kidd, A Bittersweet Tale, and The Ungodly Hour; a comedy, Fabulous! An Opera Buffa; a collection, Fog and Other Stories; and a literary work, The Swimmer. Four limited-edition poetry volumes have been published: Snow, Shadows, a Stranger; Beneath the Lion’s Paw; The Sea & Beyond; and Presence & Absence. She lives on the northern coast of New Jersey where she sailed Turnabouts during her teenage years.

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