Book Blitz and Giveaway: Overland by Ramcy Diek

Overland
Ramcy Diek
Published by: Acorn Publishing
Publication date: November 10th 2020
Genres: Adult, Romance, Thriller

Skyla Overland is proud to work for Overland Insurance, the company founded by her grandfather. She enjoys sharing an apartment with her best friend, Pauline, and is in love with Edmond. Besides one nerve-wracking insurance fraud case in the past, her sheltered life is uneventful and just the way she likes it.

Until one day, everything changes…

Skyla and Troy, the manager at Overland Insurance, are the last ones to leave the office. In the empty parking lot, Troy takes her in his arms. Why would he ruin their easy-going friendship by kissing her, especially since he knows she’s dating Edmond?

Left alone, Skyla hurries to her car, puts on her seatbelt, and glances in her rearview mirror.

The face of a stranger grins at her from the backseat. “How nice to see you again,” he hisses close to her ear.

Regaining consciousness, Skyla finds herself on the backseat of her own car, with her hands tied behind her back.

Is she getting kidnapped? Who is he? And where is he taking her?

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Prologue

The trip into the city took him almost three hours. Rage dominated his already ugly frame of mind.

“Asshole!” he yelled, honking his horn at the unexpected car that suddenly pulled out right in front of him. “Who taught you to drive, slowpoke? Hit that throttle!”

He looked at his fuel gauge. Empty. A stream of curses spewed from his mouth. He wanted so much and had so little. Life was unfair. Everything he’d ever cared about had been taken away from him and all that remained were responsibilities. The upcoming holiday season only added to his misery. He hated Thanksgiving. It brought out too many people, the spirit of Christmas already in their eyes as they clogged up the streets, sidewalks, and parking lots. Beyond pathetic, they were blind to other people’s misery, pretending the world was one big happy place. It was not. Not for the likes of him.

He drove first to the post office. With any luck, his welfare check was waiting for him. After finding a parking spot, he got out of his pickup truck. The frigid November blizzard immediately hit him in the face, and he pulled up his collar against the snowflakes whirling around. The sidewalk was just starting to turn white, his boots leaving footprints in the slick layer. As he rounded the corner to Edison Street, the force of the cold westerly wind slammed into him. He took a quick hold of his baseball cap, drawing it further down to keep it from flying away, and shuddered. His threadbare camouflage jacket was no match for the almost below freezing temperatures.

Other pedestrians hustled by, all bundled up and eager to escape the cold. He envied them their warm coats. He needed one of those rugged waterproof parkas. Preferably one with a hood and lots of pockets. That would make life a little better.

At the post office, he opened his box and pulled out the small stack of mail. The first item that caught his attention was a red note, informing him his rent for the box was overdue. He mumbled a harsh word, crushed the note in his hand and tossed it onto the floor. “That check better be there,” he mumbled, searching through the stack of letters and advertisements until he found it. On his way out, he dumped the rest of the unopened mail in the garbage bin. Whatever it contained, he didn’t care.

Continuing his drive on fumes, he headed downtown to cash what had become his only source of income. Without a phone or a watch, he had no idea of the exact time. The darkening sky suggested it had to be close to five. When he reached the bank, it was already closed.

“Damn you people,” he shouted. He banged his right fist several times against the glass door, leaving dirty smudges all over. “Lazy sons of bitches! Can’t you work a few minutes longer?”

He looked around with wild eyes filled with wrath, his hands still balled into fists. Several pedestrians hurried to get out his way. He didn’t even notice their shocked reactions as he continued to rant and rave. “Get out of my way!”

He lumbered back to his truck. His stomach growled, and he hadn’t had a cigarette in more than two weeks. He craved the nicotine more than anything. What now?

Frustrated, he stepped in and slammed his palm against the steering wheel. He’d spent his last few bucks on gas and didn’t even have a penny left in his pocket, the mental image of the double burger and large fries beyond his reach. Dammit, he needed cash. He needed it now.

All over the city, lights sparkled. Store windows glowed, filled with decorations and signs, trying to lure in customers with discounts. The holiday season would kick off with Thanksgiving only a few days away, followed by Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday. All the cheerfulness and brightness fueled his resentment. What a way to spend your time, buying useless gifts nobody wanted or needed. Didn’t they have anything better to do with their money? Why not give it to the poor and needy, to someone like him?

Traffic crawled. The snow stopped, turning into a light drizzle. With luck, he might just make it to the Westside Soup Kitchen. He’d been there several times in the past. Run by several priests, or some other religious dudes, the food was decent. They even served a second helping if someone asked. With the holiday season, people were more generous to the hungry and donations to shelters increased. Who knew? They might even offer dessert.

He left his truck and walked the last few blocks. On the way, he passed an All-American diner, an Italian restaurant, and two burger joints. The delicious smell of roasted meat and french fries tickled his senses and made him salivate. His anger against the bank flared up again. He would have given anything for a juicy burger smothered in cheese and several thick strips of bacon, or for a bucket of fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. Instead, he would probably wind up eating spaghetti and cheap white dinner rolls, or Spanish rice with sticks of celery and iceberg salad.

One of the city buses came to a halt next to him, the screeching brakes drawing his attention. The doors opened and people streamed out on the sidewalk in front of him. Others waited to climb on board, blocking his path. He stopped and waited, his hands deep in his pockets, until he noticed the colorful advertisement on the side of the bus.

It read – ‘Protection for all you hold dear. Call Overland Insurance’ – in bold lettering, with two men and two women on either side, all four dressed to perfection, smiling brightly with their too white, orthodontia-enhanced teeth.

He felt sucker punched in the belly and his blood started to boil. He knew that insurance agency too damn well. The Overland family! Definitely the last name he needed to see today. Acid-filled resentment flooded his throat, and disgusted, he spat on the sidewalk. He detested those people, hated them. They’d caused his troubles. They were to blame for his misery. Somebody should destroy them, make them burn in hell. That’s what they deserved.

A long time ago, I fell in love with the United States while traveling around in an Oldsmobile station-wagon with my husband. We are both born and raised in the Netherlands.

Together, we eventually found our way to the Pacific Northwest, built up a business, and raised our two boys into amazing young adults with their own careers. During this time, I also made a slow transition from reader to writer of many different stories.

My multiple award winning debut novel "Storm at Keizer Manor" sets the bar high for my second novel, Eagles in Flight.
All my books are stand alone novels in different genres. You might be in for a surprise, or a disappointment.

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Release Blitz: That Swoony Feeling by Meghan Quinn

THAT SWOONY FEELING by Meghan Quinn
Release Date: August 6th
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2EoUZPv

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USA Today bestselling author Meghan Quinn brings more humor and heart with the fourth novel of her Getting Lucky series: a story about breaking curses and finally finding that swoony feeling.

I'm single . . . so single it's painful.

Yup, ladies, Brig Knightly--that's me--is still a lonely bachelor, stumbling through the streets of Port Snow, looking for the girl he's supposed to end up with.

That is until my brother, Rogan, presents me with the opportunity of a lifetime. The Summer of Love, a secret pen pal program in Port Snow is looking for applicants and I'm the perfect fit.

I couldn't sign up fast enough.

I found myself quickly falling in love with a pair of red lips at the bottom of a letter. Just like in the movies . . .

Life could not have been better, that was until I started hanging out with Ruth Barber. Starting a new business right next to my shop, I found myself gravitating toward her. Her smile, her humor . . . her tea sandwiches.

My attraction for Ruth came in full force, leaving me dazed, confused, and *ahem* excited.

As new feelings for two women come to a screeching halt, I have to figure out who to choose. But when I discover my pen pal is Ruth, it might be too late.

All I want in life is to experience that swoony feeling . . . but I think I might have just missed my chance.

PROLOGUE:

**BRIG**

Hands stuffed in my pockets, I look at Reid while nibbling on the corner of my lip. “But—”

“Brig, I swear to God,” Reid says, dragging his hand down his face while we make our way past Jackson Square, toward Café Du Monde. “Do not ask about your penis turning green one more goddamn time. We all looked at it. It’s flesh colored. Any signs of green you might have seen was from the shit lighting in the bathroom. Now, drop it.”

“Yeah, okay,” I sigh, even though I don’t feel convinced.

Something happened last night.

Something terrifying.

Something that has left me shaking in my shoes—because I don’t wear boots—wanting to rip my pants down repeatedly to make sure things are still intact.

Two days ago, I turned twenty-one, and to celebrate the youngest Knightly’s freedom to hold a beer in his hand legally, my three brothers took me to New Orleans to party in style. And we did . . . up until last night, when the depths of hell tried to swallow us all whole.

Mom warned us, saying, “Don’t get into any trouble.”

My dad slapped the back of our heads before we left and told us to use our brains.

Even our sister, the oldest and wisest of the Knightly children, stared us in the eyes and told us not to do anything stupid.

And yet, we failed all of them.

Have you ever been to New Orleans? Neither had I, but I’d heard great things about the place.

Drinking in the streets and peekaboo boobs on every corner.

Beignets and rice and beans.

Scandalous fun.

Sounded like a great time.

But after doing extensive research before the trip—I like to plan ahead—the one thing I wanted to avoid, the one thing that made me extremely nervous, was the voodoo magic prevalent on the grimy cobblestone streets.

You know what I’m talking about. The dark stuff, the chilling life-altering spells that can change you as a man . . . as a human.

*Whispers* Black magic . . .

We did a great job avoiding any and all scary things, until last night, when I inadvertently ran smack dab into the palms of evil.

Shocking news: I was drunk. I couldn’t tell if I was walking on cobblestone streets last night or lobster rolls—that’s how far gone I was—so when I stumbled over a palm reader’s table and broke it, I wasn’t exactly aware of the severity of my mistake.

She roared with displeasure.

Her eyes tore through me with veritable hatred that shook me to the tip of my dick.

And her gangly fingers rattled while she spoke vehemently.

Terrified out of my wits, I held up my palm while my brothers tossed her twenty bucks and asked her to read it.

I wish I could remember what she said. The future she spoke of is all a blur at this point. Pretty sure she said something about how incredibly handsome I am and how I outshine my brothers with the curves of my jaw, but I can’t be quite sure. The boys deny that part of the story, but they don’t deny the stark hatred that spit like venom from the petrifying woman’s mouth.

My brothers, of course, didn’t make the situation any better by making fun of her predictions.

They actually sparked the flame that set the fire. I might be telling this wrong—you know, completely wasted and all—but the moment the palm reader turned an evil shade of hate, I felt every ounce of fun-loving booze seep from the bottom of my feet and out into the streets, sobering me up to the point of understanding.

In a whirlwind of vengeful movements, her arms waved about, the wind swirled around us, trash from the streets danced around my jean-covered legs, and the palm reader’s eyes turned yellow—I confirmed that fact with all three brothers this morning.

Indeed, her eyes were yellow.

And then she said something I will never forget . . .

This wretch of a wench cloaked in the devil’s garb took our fate into her own hands and punished us with broken love.

Broken.

Love.

If you know me at all, you’d know that would cut deep to my very being.

Then Reid said something about her telling us our dicks were going to fall off or turn green; can’t be sure, because I was stunned. Stunned with the notion that my entire life goal of getting married and becoming a doting husband was quickly stripped from my soul and set into blazing embers, never to be seen again.

The miscreant cursed the one thing I strive for as a man . . . that swoony feeling of being wrapped up in a warm, safe relationship with a woman.

And I can’t shake it.

No matter what my brothers say, no matter how many times they tell me to drop it, I keep worrying. I keep remembering the whirl of evil that was cast upon us. I keep trying to decode the meaning of it all.

Are we truly cursed?

“There’s a table over there,” Griffin, my oldest brother, says, making a beeline toward the back corner of the incredibly busy beignet-making icon. We came here for their famous beignets when we first arrived and decided to indulge one more time.

We catch a flight to Port Snow this afternoon and before we get back to our gossip-loving town, I want to set some things straight.

Taking seats, we quickly put in an order for beignets and a café au lait each, and when the waitress leaves, I say, “Can we talk about last night?”

Reid groans and slouches in his chair. He’s in a shit mood, and I’m not sure if it’s from the phone call he got last night that he’s not talking about or if it’s because he’s hung over. Maybe a combo of both. “Can we not?”

“Aren’t you worried?” I ask, looking around at my brothers. I can’t possibly be the only one who’s concerned here.

But it seems like I might be.

Griffin is texting. His wife, I’m sure.

Rogan is staring at the trifold menu on the table.

And Reid is rubbing his eyes with his palms, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“Uh, hello? Do you guys not remember what happened last night? The whole alarming witch in a cloak thing, waving her dangly bone fingers at us. Table-breaking, palm-reading curses being flung about like beads off a balcony? Ring a bell?”

Griffin sets his phone down and lets out a deep breath. His tone is the even, oldest-brother sensible voice. “We were drunk last night, Brig.”

“Yeah, we were, but it doesn’t negate the fact that we all woke up with the same story this morning. She cursed us. You’re telling me none of you are concerned?” I glance around to all three pairs of blue eyes, the same blue eyes I share, and none of them are returning the look.

Which tells me they’re not willing to admit they’re just as scared as I am.

I poke Rogan in the side. “Hello, are you listening?”

“Trying not to,” he says, his fingers pressing to his left eye. “Fuck, my head is pounding.” Rogan is my second oldest brother, the quiet and annoyed one. He’s had a rough go at life and barely cracks a smile anymore. He’s more interested in punishing himself for the decisions he’s made in the past than in parting the dark cloud that hangs over his head so he can experience the world.

As a retired football player, if pushed too hard, he’s been known to fight back. I think I’ll pass on leaning on him now.

“Griff.” I turn to the reasonable one in the group. “You saw it all, the way she spouted off that little limerick about broken love. She came up with that out of nowhere. It rhymed and everything. Who does that? Who wishes broken love on unsuspecting tourists? Frankly, it’s fucked up.”

The waitress drops off our food and drinks. We give her a mumbled thank you before she takes off to serve another table in the busy outdoor seating area.

Mouth full of beignet and powdered sugar coating his lips, Griffin says, “If she was half the palm reader she said she was, then she would have known that I was already married and this curse she set upon us was flawed. Yeah, was it strange that there was wind whipping around when she raised her arms—”

“The wind was weird,” Rogan says.

“Wind freaked me out,” Reid grumbles while bringing his coffee up to his lips.

“Now you chime in,” I say with an eye roll.

“Can I finish?” Griff asks, sounding annoyed. We all silence ourselves with bites into our beignets. “The wind was a strange coincidence, but I also think she was deranged. There’s no merit to what she said, and I think we would waste time thinking about it anymore than we have. Let’s just enjoy breakfast and then get the hell out of here.”

“Agreed,” Rogan says.

“Yeah,” Reid murmurs.

“But—”

They all shoot me a death glare, and I snap my mouth shut.

I’m outnumbered, and even if I try to press it, they’re not going to change their minds. They’re chalking this experience up to what seems like a drunken it-was-all-an-illusion-we’ll-soon-forget night.

But just a quick glance around the table, and I don’t buy it.

Worried brows.

Keeping to themselves.

Shifty eyes.

They’re thinking about it just as much as I am.

Listen to me, to the words I have spoken.

From this day on, your love will be broken.

It isn’t until your minds have matured

That the weight of this curse will forever be cured.

Might not seem like a big deal, but I have a bad feeling our worlds are about to be flipped upside down.

And boy, were our lives flipped.

Griffin lost his wife.

Rogan’s high school sweetheart re-emerged with a vengeance.

Reid’s restaurant, his pride and joy, was stolen from him.

And me . . . well, I haven’t been in a relationship since the fateful day when my taut and beautiful ass tumbled over a palm reader’s table. Just bad luck? That everything good, everything we loved was taken away from us?

No.

It was the curse, but surely things would improve on their own. Wouldn’t they?

From this day on, your love will be broken.

Here we have the youngest of the Knightly brothers - Brig. Brig is so determined to find love and break the curse that he is missing everything in front of him. So when the opportunity for "The Summer of Love" pen pal program starts up, he jumps at the chance.

Ruth has pinned after Brig for years but has been too shy to do anything about it. Rylee enters Ruth into the pen pal program and quickly deduces that she has been matched with Brig.

But like I said, Brig is so blind to what is in front of him, he doesn't realize it's Ruth. As Ruth starts to work on opening a new tea house (right next to Brigs shop), they become close friends. Ruth starts to let down her walls and Brig gets to see her, truly see her.

So will Brig finally see that Ruth is the girl for him? Definitely one-click this now and get ready to swoon. I was in tears (happy tears) by the end.

That Swoony Feeling - great name for a great story! I LOVED this book!

Brig is another one of the Knightly men who have been cursed by the woman in New Orleans. Nevertheless, he wants to find love! Ruth has a HUGE crush on Brig, but can't seem to find the ability to even think around him, much less let him know she likes him!

An opportunity for a dating service that's more pen pal than anything else comes up, and Brig jumps all over it. Ruth's friend says that Ruth will sign up, in hopes the two will get together.

You will shake your Kindle trying to rush these two together because you just KNOW they need each other!

One click this today. You won't regret it!

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor
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Release Blitz & Prologue: The Change Up by Meghan Quinn

THE CHANGE UP by Meghan Quinn 

Release Date: June 11th

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3dCrXbU

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FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2Mz8kpk

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BREAKING NEWS: The Bad Boy of Baseball, Maddox Paige, is totally and utterly whipped. Okay, that might not be the headlines in the newspaper this morning, but it's the reality of my current situation. It all started a month ago when I received a call from my best friend, Kinsley. She got a new job in Chicago and needed a place to stay. I've known the girl since I was five, what harm would it be to have her stay at my place for a while? Ha! Total disaster. 

Now instead of going out every night with my teammates, I'm couch surfing and sketching endless photos of my best friend . . . but that's the least of my concerns. The disaster, you ask? I'm rapidly falling head over cleats in love with my best friend, my roommate, and my number one fan. And she has no idea . . . 

**MADDOX**

Have you ever said something you regret? Something you haven’t forgotten about an hour later? Something that sits with you, stews deep in your belly, and then seeps into your bones, burying itself so far into your marrow that all you can think about is the one thing you said . . . and how you wished you could take it back the minute it slipped past your lips? That’s where I am. Full of regret. People always say, “Don’t regret anything. It’s what makes you who you are.” That was said in a whiney, nasally voice. Did you hear it? Well, those people, the ones trying to spew rainbows and sunshine up your ass about blatant mistakes . . . yeah, they’re only saying that because they fuck up on a daily basis. Think about it, what REAL person is okay with all their regrets? No one. 

There is always that one thing you did, that one time, that you will always, always, always think . . . “What if I’d done that differently?” It keeps you up at night. You wonder, what transformed, what took over my brain, to utter such words. To alter your life completely and send it down an entirely different course. Yeah, my life has been fucking altered all right. Everything was fine. I was pitching one hell of a fucking season for the Rebels, my ride or die team. I was getting along with my teammates, even the infamous Cory Potter, who made a splash after last season. I’ll hand it to the man, he really is the boss. I was getting laid whenever I wanted, which is always a plus for a guy who has massive amounts of adrenaline pumping through him daily, especially on a pitching day. And there were no strings attached. None. 

Yeah, I might have a rotation of women I call, but any single player in the major leagues does. You need the outlet. Even the prestigious Cory Potter had some booty call numbers before he found Natalie. I was living a great life, and then it all changed. And it changed fucking fast. Before I knew it, I was staring into my fridge at dairy products not made from a cow, but rather from oat. What the fuck is that? Oat milk? Explain to me where an oat has a goddamn nipple. My toothbrush is made from bamboo, which gives off a very woody, splintery taste, and I’ve been using toothpaste tablets instead of paste from a tube . . . because apparently, tubes suck up life in the landfill. The eco-friendly toilet paper in my apartment disintegrates in my hand and is worthless, making bathroom breaks a fucking nightmare. 

And there’s a goddamn three-legged dog in a suit and tie sitting on my couch that goes by the name Herman, or Hermy for short. I don’t have any privacy, I don’t even remember what meat tastes like anymore, and “Hermy” has a goddamn staring problem. And the three-legged motherfucker, yeah, he’s stealthy. I find him waiting for me outside the shower . . . staring. When I wake up . . . staring. When I’m trying to make a goddamn tempeh sandwich . . . staring. Every time I tell him to “get a life” or to “fuck off” or for the love of Christ “get a new hobby”, he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. He just stares! I can’t fucking take it anymore. I’m losing my goddamn mind and I don’t know . . . maybe it’s because I haven’t had sex in what feels like forever, or because my burgers are now made of imposter “meat”, or maybe because I’m forced to do things I don’t want to do. 

Either way, something needs to give, because I’m pretty sure from all the vegan shit I’ve been eating, my armpits are just about ready to spring their own mung beans. Christ. One phone call. That’s all it took. One fucking phone call from a person I cannot say no to, a person who will forever and always be . . . my insanely beautiful and free-spirited best friend. 

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

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

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Blog Tour and Review: The Modern Gentleman by Meghan Quinn

THE MODERN GENTLEMAN by Meghan Quinn
Release Date: May 14th
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3c0haYg

 AVAILABLE NOW!!!
FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
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Have you ever hit rock bottom?

I embarrassingly have.

It’s why I’m wearing my girl's decorative scarf over my head, clutching her lady drink to my chest, and singing ever so softly to Joni Mitchell while swaying back and forth.

This is what therapists refer to as LOSING IT.

Oldest story in the book: boy meets girl, boy falls for girl, boy screws up MASSIVELY, girl tells boy to suffocate in the fruits of his very own unborn children.

Heard it before? I'm sure you have. So what's so different about this story? Well, it's about me, The Modern Gentleman, New York City's top advice columnist, and my rather ungraceful downfall from my pristinely polished pedestal.

It's about a girl I met who threw all my proven theories to the wind and left me awkward, needy, and absolutely head-over-wingtipped shoes in love.

This is a story about June Lacy and how she single-handedly dismantled The Modern Gentleman.

PROLOGUE

Dear Gents, See that remote in your hand? Yeah, the one that’s covered in pizza sauce and last night’s Buffalo wings? I want you to take a good look at it. Do you have it memorized? Good, now bend at the waist, set it on the coffee table, and stand up. Don’t you dare look at that remote again, don’t even glance at it. And the Xbox that’s calling your name, go ahead and forget about that as well, because guess what? You’re starting a new journey and it doesn’t include television, video games, or high-fiving over a bubbly belch from the bowels of your intestinal tract. Forget everything you’ve ever known about being a man, forget the hall passes you have for being a man, and forget every natural instinct you carry inside your bones. Because I’m here to refine you, replenish your knowledge on the male species, and turn you into a modern gentleman: a well-respected, polished, and confident individual with an epic sex appeal and killer style that will woo any female with a simple flash of your honest charm.

Stick with me, gents. I’m starting a revolution and it begins with you.

Sincerely,

The Modern Gentleman

Another great romantic comedy by Meghan Quinn! I would give this book a 4 stars and highly recommend to others. I was told before reading this book that it had a spin of how to lose a guy in 10 days and boy was that spot on! I really enjoyed this read and the comedy of course is always spot on!

Wes is a columnist and he gives all the advice on relationships but what happens when he meets a girl- June who literally blows everything out of the water? Can they have a true relationship or will it all crumble?

Get to one clicking to see what happens you don't want to miss this one!

This was a quick, hilarious, swoon-worthy read. Meghan Quinn can do no wrong.

Wes is a writing contributor at HYPE media. He write a column called The Modern Gentleman where he gives advice for people transitioning from frat boy to a gentleman. His boss is tasking everyone with new writing assignments and Wes' is to find someone, date and woo them and write the process. All while maintaining his "modern gentleman" persona.

Enter June Lacy. Aspiring Broadway actress and part time dog walker, she meets Wes in the park, shouting for him to avoid walking in a fresh pile of dog doo. June is not like most girls and he thinks she will the perfect date for his article.... only June has Wes throwing out his standard playbook.

So will June fall for Wes? And will June find out about the article? Definitely one-click this hilarious adventure.
Hopefully we will get a Roman and Camden books :)

Ok, you need to stop reading this review and just buy this book right now. This is filled with the laugh out loud hilarity that I've come to expect from Meghan Quinn. I had a hard time putting this book down! Do yourself a favor and get to reading!

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMegQuinn

Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

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Book Blitz and Giveaway: A Widow's Tale by Frances Paul

A Widow’s Tale
Frances Paul
Publication date: January 21st 2020
Genres: Adult, Suspense, Thriller

A trained killer. One kill list. A world of hurt.
In this novel, author Frances Paul introduces a complex and driven young lady determined to uncover the truth surrounding the murders of her parents and to bring to justice the people responsible for the cruel act.
Karina Navarre, a Cuban national, lived a life that would be described as anything but easy. After witnessing the brutal murder of her parents, Karina’s life spiraled out of control, until a former KGB officer agreed to take her under his wing and train her.
Eight years later, the girl who has been discarded and forgotten is introduced to the underworld – resilient and ready to take her life back. But when tragedy strikes again, Karina turns into a force to be reckoned with, a woman out for revenge.
Fueled by her grief, Karina sets off on a breathtaking journey of twists and turns, fighting in a world where women are deemed inferior. But she’s determined to avenge the deaths of those she lost, even if that means risking everything including her own life in the process. Karina Navarre has a list, and she’s crossing off names…one by bloody one.
Thrilling, unpredictable, fast-paced, and powered by a grieved widow’s inexorable sense of duty.

Goodreads / Amazon

Prologue
New Year’s Eve
1996
Santiago del Estero, Argentina

“This is fantastic, Princesa?”
“Yes, papa. I saved the best for last.”
“I see that.” Carlos much admired his daughter’s painting of their old house in Trelew, Argentina. In front of the house stood Bella, Karina’s dog. A Maltese who passed a year prior. Bella was an old dog, fifteen years old when she passed away. She was part of the Navarre family and played a major role in Karina’s upbringing. She took the death harder than anyone.
“This is your late Christmas and New Year’s present.” Karina explained to her father.
“It was worth the wait.” Carlos carried his ten-year old in his arms and kissed her temple. Gloria Navarre strolled into the living room with two champagne flutes and offered one to her husband.
“You know what we need to do before the clock strikes midnight?”
“What?” Karina looked up at her mom expectantly.
“Share our New Year’s resolutions.”
“What is a New Year’s resolution?” Asked a puzzled Karina, still seated on her father’s lap.
“It’s a promise you make to yourself to start doing something good or stop doing something bad in the New Year.”
Karina thought to herself for a moment, “I promise to share more.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Gloria grinned.
“…and eat all the veggies you sneak into my meals.” Karina quickly added.
Both Gloria and Carlos laughed.
“Let’s set realistic goals.” Teased Carlos.
“What about you, mama?”
A sudden thud behind the door seized Carlos’s attention. He would have ignored it as nothing more than his paranoia playing tricks on him if a second and much louder thud did not follow the first. He quickly stood, forcing Karina off his lap. He edged toward the windows and the first clue he discovered was the foot of one of his guards sticking out in the hallway.
He instantly paled. Gloria noticing her husband’s predicament, placed her finger to her lips, a sign of silence to Karina. She grabbed her daughter’s shoulders and forced her underneath the sofa.
Bang! The door suddenly swung open. Five men garbed in black and carrying weapons marched in with steady steps. They each had blades tucked inside their belts, except for one. The leader! He stepped away from the group, distancing himself from the masses and demonstrating his authority with self-importance. He wore a tailored dark suit and dark dress shirt. His shoes were polished to a gloss. All five men were dressed sharply, but the leader stood out. Gloria Navarre stood terrified, shuddering with terror behind her husband. Karina sensing danger remained unmoving. The ten-year old knew exactly what to do as she had been rehearsing for years with her mother. Gloria always cautioned her, there are many monsters in the world that’d want to hurt us because of who we are and what we represent and she must be ready when and if that occurred. Though Karina never believed or understood her, she went along with the exercise anyway to pacify her mother’s fears. Be as silent as the grave, her mom had told her. Under no circumstance should you reveal yourself or let the enemy know where you are hiding and tonight she did just that. She couldn’t see the faces of the beasts that invaded their home, but she saw their shoes. Her eyes were fixated on the glossier pair. It stood right in front of her father’s bare feet.
“Carlos Navarre,” a deep voice said, probably from the man with the shiny feet, “this was easier than I thought it’d be.” his cold chortle filled the noiseless room.
“Mrs. Navarre.” his voice was deeply aggrieved.
“Tomas?” her father’s voice responded, “You’ve some nerves storming into my home as if you own me. What is the meaning of this?”
“Ah, be careful now.” The deep voice warned, “It’s a new day. You lost before the battle began. I am taking over your empire and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me. Your men, at least those in the building are all gone. You are done, Navarre. If you’re as wise as you have in the past portrayed yourself to be, you’ll be reciting your final prayers, pleading for clemency for your soul before I squeeze this trigger.”
“You traitorous bastard. Tell me, what coerced you to act against the hand that has fed you all these years? You were nothing. I made you and this is how you repay me?”
“You are a weak man, Navarre. You call yourself the boss. The Don.” he said with a slight chuckle, “You are a joke, a phony. We did all your dirty work while you sat on your high horse and collected. I don’t answer to weak men, not anymore.”
“You’ll never survive in our world with this kind of betrayal under your belt. No one will trust you. Think very hard about what you are doing.”
“Oh, I have. See, while you were seated on your throne, filling your belly from our blood and sweat, I was preparing for this defining moment. I’ve looked forward to this day for a very long time.” he crowed with insolence.
“You were always in my home, seated at my table with my family, breaking bread and today you kiss me on my cheek?” Carlos said incredulously.
“You give me too much credit. I am no Judas. You sealed your fate, Carlos. I am just here to ensure your crossover goes smoothly.” he released the safety on the gun and aimed it at Carlos’s head. That was the moment little Karina realized she knew the monster. She thought the voice sounded familiar but her feeble nerves had compromised her brain. It was her father’s good friend, Uncle Tomas, but why’d he do this? She mused.
“This is absurd, Tomas. This is between us. Let my wife go, and we can handle this as men.”
“As you wish.” Tomas said right before a loud ear-piercing sound filled the room. Within seconds, her mother’s eyes were gazing directly at her. Blood streaming down her temple. Her eyes were wide open but appeared lifeless and Karina knew right away that her mother was gone.
A deep agonizing scream from her father erupted through the room.
“There it is. I let her go. Now we handle this as men.” Tomas motioned with his weapon between him and Carlos.
Still staring into her mother’s cold eyes, Karina whimpered in absolute silence. Unceasing tears poured down her face, spilling over her hands. “Mummy?” she mouthed.
“I’ll destroy you, Tomas.” her father said, right before another dreadful sound emitted and just as she feared, his body slumped on top of her mother’s. She shut her eyes for a moment and sharply inhaled.
The monster’s feet hovered over the corpses for a long moment before he spoke again, “Let’s get out of this rubbish dump.”
“How about the kid?” One of his followers said.
Silence filled the room like an invisible cloud as the men pondered over the question. Heavy footsteps suddenly hurried through the room, then ascended the staircase. Slamming of doors and screams erupted from every corner of the building. With both her hands covering her own mouth to suppress a harrowing scream from sliding out, Karina closed her eyes tightly and prayed. Her little heart raced frenziedly. It was so loud, she feared the men left in the room could hear it too. Be as quiet as the grave. Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears.
“She’s just a stupid girl. What can she do?” Tomas finally said. To some degree, he sounded hesitant, even to himself.
“Tomas?” One of his men protested.
“Do you want to put a bullet into a little girl’s heart?” Anger spewed out of him.
There was no response.
“Or perhaps you want to adopt her?”
Still, no response.
“Leave that dirty little thing. She’ll just turn into a whore like the rest of them if she’s not dead within two years.”
“Did you find the sleazeball?” he snarled, referring to Carlos’s best friend and second in command, Savio Cardozo.
“Not yet.”
“Find him. The takeover is not successful until he is put down.”
The frightening sound of additional bullets filled the room as he shot extra holes into her father to certify his demise.
After some time, the footsteps receded, and she cautiously dragged her body forward to gain a full length view of the monster who destroyed her entire life in one night before he exited the room. Disheartened, she broke down into hysterical tears when she established, it was indeed, Uncle Tomas.
Leuven, Belgium
Present Day
A serene night. The stars shone brightly like diamonds. The full moon hung low, illuminating the path, and casting a glow along her vision as she peered through the night vision scope of Ruby, her sniper rifle. Designed to travel as far as 1.25 miles (2.01 km) to her intended target with no hitches. Tonight, her position from the fat bastard she was contracted forty-eight hours earlier to put down like a sick dog was close to two thousand yards. She sighed, savoring the tranquil moment of the gentle winds blowing through her hair and calming the adrenaline rushing through her veins.
She lived for moments like these. The moment the bullet from her rifle travels undetected through the quiet night and lodges itself at home in the heart or brain. Her reputation to date was unimpeachable. She was considered a Grade A sniper, and listed amongst the top ten of the world’s best snipers. She had no knowledge the true identities of her superiors, or acquainted with their location, nor did she care to know. Her job was to eliminate. Plain and simple. An app was installed on a distinctive phone given to her by the agency, where she received notifications when awarded with a contract. The app was designed to disappear from the phone once a contract has been fulfilled. The details provided were typically the name of the target, location and contract amount, no negotiations. Not that she ever had the need to negotiate. She got paid more than she cared to admit, besides, she hardly needed the money. She hadn’t received a notification in six months. Ruby, her rifle grew restless and so did she. Twice a week during those excruciating six months, she’d dismantle her then put her back together. She repeated the practice daily without breaking a sweat.
Tonight’s kill was greatly required to quench her thirsty dark soul.
In a prone position, lying flat on her stomach with both legs spread apart, her left hand rested casually on the biceps of the right, while her right finger hovered over the trigger. Soft winds whistled in her ears and she heeded attentively. Ruby’s trajectory data was set to its precise setting, and she was anxious to squeeze the trigger her index finger was keenly massaging.
Three black Alfa Romeo SUVs pulled up seconds later. Three men in suits simultaneously jumped down from each vehicle before the target exited the vehicle in the middle. He slickly buttoned his suit jacket, scarcely turning his head to the left. She squeezed the trigger and listened as the bullet traveled in the silence of the night through the calming winds at 1,700 miles (2,735.88 km) per hour. It sliced through the center of his forehead within 2.12 seconds. Bullseye!
In just under three minutes, she’d detached the scope and packed Ruby carefully into its case. Just as she jumped into the backseat of the waiting car that was to transport her to an airstrip to board a private jet, her cellphone vibrated inside the pocket of her jacket. She discarded the red leather gloves shielding her hands from the bitter cold and fetched it. Caller unknown, it read.
“Yes?” she answered with a bit of irritation in her voice.
“It’s Savio.” he said, his tone was grimmer than courteous.
“Why are you calling from an unknown number?” she questioned.
“Are you on your way back home?” he countered her question with another.
“What’s going on?” she repeated the pattern.
He remained silent but his heavy breathing could be heard at the end of the line.
“Savio?” she called, growing impatient. After every kill, she performed a ritual. And that was to sit in silence, meditating for a few seconds and patting herself on the back for a job well done. This ill-timed call hindered with her sacramental process.
“Hurry back. We have a problem.” he cautioned.
“Just spit it out?” she had nothing but ultimate respect for Savio, her father-in-law and late father’s best friend but at this moment, his interruption irritated the energized heartbeat she earned from the excitement she just encountered.
“It’s Thian.”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead!” he whimpered, “Do you hear me? They took my boy.” his voice came in a broken growl.
Her hands fell in her lap. The sudden motion caused the phone to fall and disappear under the front seat. Her stare remained at the back of the headrest in sheer dismay. Her mind bizarrely rid of any thoughts.
“We are here, Ms. Navarre.” Karina heard the indistinct voice of her chauffeur.
She looked up and offered him a blank stare. No idea how long she had been stuck in that stupor state. She assumed a lengthy amount of time as the mileage between her last position and the hangar was just about 40.2 kilometers. Adding up to twenty minutes of oblivion. She gathered her bearings and stepped out of the car, grabbing Ruby from the seat beside her.
The pilot bobbed his head at her as she ascended the airstair toward him but received nothing in return. Once settled in her seat, she stared out the window in silence until the plane was safely in the air. She heaved a silent sigh and stiffened her stance. The nerves in her neck coiled, pulling every vein connecting her inner organs. Her skin inflamed with rage as her body temperature climbed at a reckless rate. She waved away the hostess who approached her with a glass of champagne. BBC news blared through the television hanging from the overhead.
BREAKING NEWS ― Petrak Novak, former Czech Prime Minister was assassinated at 21:48 at the front entrance of the Park Inn Hotel where he had been staying for the past two days. No report on whether he was on official duty or a private visit. The Belgian Federal Police team are actively engaged in the hunt for the assassin who might still be in the district. Road blocks have been placed all over the city as the manhunt continues. We will keep you informed as we receive more information on this cowardly act.

Born and raised in Accra, Ghana and now living in Cincinnati, Ohio. A banker, wife and mother of two amazing kids. She finds writing to be a great passion of hers and a path she was born to follow. She began by writing short stories at a young age. Now, she has four published books and working on a few more projects. She's a crazy tea lover, loves to travel, eat, and enjoys learning about different cultures. Authors she is inspired by are Sidney Sheldon, Nora Roberts and Jeffrey Archer. Hope you enjoy her books as greatly as she enjoyed producing them.

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