A Ghostly Mortality Book Tour + Giveaway

A Ghostly Mortality

by Tonya Kappes

on Tour February 28 – March 30, 2017


A Ghostly Mortality

That ghost sure looks . . . familiar

Only a handful of people know that Emma Lee Raines, proprietor of a small-town Kentucky funeral home, is a “Betweener.” She helps ghosts stuck between here and the ever-after—murdered ghosts. Once Emma Lee gets them justice they can cross over to the great beyond.

But Emma Lee’s own sister refuses to believe in her special ability. In fact, the Raines sisters have barely gotten along since Charlotte Rae left the family business for the competition. After a doozy of an argument, Emma Lee is relieved to see Charlotte Rae back home to make nice. Until she realizes her usually snorting, sarcastic, family-ditching sister is a… ghost.

Charlotte Rae has no earthly idea who murdered her or why. With her heart in tatters, Emma Lee relies more than ever on her sexy beau, Sheriff Jack Henry Ross…because this time, catching a killer means the Raines sisters will have to make peace with each other first.

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery, Paranormal

Published by: Witness

Publication Date: February 28th 2017

Number of Pages: 336

ISBN: 0062466976 (ISBN13: 9780062466976)

Series: Ghostly Southern Mysteries #6

Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗

Read an excerpt:

Lawdy bee.” Granny scooted to the edge of the chair and lifted her arms in the air like she was worshiping in the Sunday morning service at Sleepy Hollow Baptist and the spirit just got put in her.

I sucked in a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever was going to come out of Zula Fae Raines Payne’s mouth, my granny. She was a ball of southern spitfire in her five-foot-four-inch frame topped off with bright red hair that I wasn’t sure was real or out of a L’Oréal bottle she’d gotten down at the Buy-N-Fly.

“Please, please, please,” she begged. “Let me die before anything happens to Emma Lee.” Her body slid down the fancy, high-back mahogany leather chair as she fell to her knees with her hands clasped together, bringing them back up in the air as she pleaded to the Big Guy in the sky. “I’m begging you.”

“Are you nuts?” My voice faded to a hushed stillness. I glanced back at the closed door of my sister’s new office, in fear she was going to walk in and see Granny acting up. I sat in the other fancy, high-back mahogany leather chair next to Granny’s and grabbed her by the loose skin of her underarm. “Get back up on this chair before Charlotte Rae gets back in here and sees you acting like a fool.”

“What?” Granny quirked her eyebrows questioningly as if her behavior was normal. My head dropped along with my jaw in the “are you kidding me” look.

“Well, I ain’t lying!” She spat, “I do hope and pray you are the granddaughter that will be doing my funeral, unless you get a flare up of the ‘Funeral Trauma.’ ” She sucked in a deep breath and got up off her knees. She ran her bony fingers down the front of her cream sweater to smooth out any wrinkles so she’d be presentable like a good southern woman, forgetting she was just on her knees begging for mercy.

“Flare up?” I sighed with exasperation. “It’s not like arthritis.”

The “Funeral Trauma.” It was true. I was diagnosed with the “Funeral Trauma” after a decorative plastic Santa fell off the roof of Artie’s Meat and Deli, knocking me flat out cold and now I could see dead people. I had told Doc Clyde I was having some sort of hallucinations and seeing dead people, but he insisted I had been in the funeral business a little too long and seeing corpses all of my life had brought on the trauma. Truthfully, the Santa had given me a gift. Not a gift you’d expect Santa to give you, but it was the gift of seeing clients of Eternal Slumber, my family’s funeral home business where I was the undertaker. Some family business. Anyway, a psychic told me I was now a Betweener. I helped people who were stuck between here and the ever after. The Great Beyond. The Big Guy in the sky. One catch . . . the dead people I saw were murdered and they needed me to help them solve their murder before they could cross over.

“I’m fine,” I huffed and took the pamphlet off of Charlotte Rae’s desk, keeping my gift to myself. The only people who knew were me, the psychic and Sheriff Jack Henry Ross, my hot, hunky and sexy boyfriend. He was as handy as a pocket on a shirt when it came time for me to find a killer when a ghost was following me around. “We are here to get her to sign my papers and talk about this sideboard issue once and for all.” Granny stared at me.

My head slid forward like a turtle and I popped my eyes open.

“I’m fine,” I said through closed teeth.

“You are not fine.” Granny rolled her eyes so big, I swear she probably hurt herself. “People are still going around talking about how you talk to yourself.” She shook her finger at me. “If you don’t watch it, you are going to be committed. Surrounded by padded walls. Then—She jabbed her finger on my arm. I swatted her away with the pamphlet.

“Charlotte Rae will have full control over my dead body and I don’t want someone celebrating a wedding while I lay corpse in the next room. Lawdy bee,” Granny griped. I opened the pamphlet and tried to ignore Granny as best I could.

“Do you hear me, Emma Lee?” Granny asked. I could feel her beady eyes boring into me.

“Don’t you be disrespecting your elders. I asked you a question,” she warned when I didn’t immediately answer her question.

“Granny.” I placed the brochure in my lap and reminded myself to remain calm. Something I did often when it came to my granny. “I hear you. Don’t you worry about a thing. By the time you get ready to die, they will have you in the nut-house alongside me,” I joked, knowing it would get her goat. The door flung open and the click of Charlotte Rae’s high-dollar heels tapped the hardwood floor as she sashayed her way back into her office. The soft linen green suit complemented Charlotte’s sparkly green eyes and the chocolate scarf that was neatly tied around her neck. It was the perfect shade of brown to go with her long red hair and pale skin.

“I’m so sorry about that.” She stopped next to our chairs and looked between me and Granny. She shook the long, loose curls over her shoulders. “What? What is wrong, now?”

“Granny is all worried I’m going to get sent away to the nuthouse and you are going to lay her out here.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Or did my subconscious take over my mouth? It was always a competition between me and Charlotte, only it was one-sided. Mine. Charlotte never viewed me as competition because she railroaded me all my life. Like now. She’d left Eternal Slumber with zero guilt, leaving me in charge so she could make more money at Hardgrove’s Legacy Center, formerly known as Hardgrove’s Funeral Homes until they got too big for their britches and decided to host every life event possible just to make more money.

Excerpt from A Ghostly Mortality by Tonya Kappes. Copyright © 2017 by Tonya Kappes. Reproduced with permission from Witness. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Tonya KappesTonya Kappes has written more than fifteen novels and four novellas, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists including USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and humor and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband, two very spoiled schnauzers, and one ex-stray cat in northern Kentucky. Now that her boys are teenagers, Tonya writes full-time but can be found at all of her guys’ high school games with a pencil and paper in hand.

Catch Up with Tonya Kappes on her Website 🔗Twitter 🔗, & Facebook 🔗



There is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours for Tonya Kappes and Witness Impulse. There will be 1 US winner of one PRINTED set of The Ghostly Southern Mysteries #1-6 by Tonya Kappes. The giveaway begins on February 27th and runs through April 2nd, 2017

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Runes Book Tour + Giveaway 


Runes Series Book 1

by Ednah Walters

Genre: YA Fantasy, Paranormal Romance


Seventeen-year-old Raine Cooper has enough on her plate dealing with her father’s

disappearance, her mother’s erratic behavior and the possibility of

her boyfriend relocating. The last thing she needs is Torin St.

James—a mysterious new neighbor with a wicked smile and uncanny way

of reading her.

Raine is drawn to Torin’s dark sexiness against her better judgment,

until he saves her life with weird marks and she realizes he is

different. But by healing her, Torin changes something inside Raine.

Now she can’t stop thinking about him. Half the time, she’s not

sure whether to fall into his arms or run.

Scared, she sets out to find out what Torin is. But the closer she gets to

the truth the more she uncovers something sinister about him. What

Torin is goes back to an ancient mythology and Raine is somehow part

of it. Not only is she and her friends in danger, she must choose a

side, but the wrong choice will cost Raine her life.

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(book 2)

Goodreads * Amazon



(book 3)

Goodreads * Amazon



(book 4)

Goodreads * Amazon


(book 5)

Goodreads * Amazon



(book 6)

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(book 7)

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USA Today Bestselling Author Ednah Walters is a multi-published author of

four different series–her Norse-mythology-based bestselling YA

Paranormal romance series, RUNES(YA-Paranormal Romance) and Nephilim

THE GUARDIAN LEGACY-(YA fantasy romance).

She also writes contemporary romance under E. B. Walters. The Fitzgerald

Family series started with SLOW BURN. There are six books in this

series. Her new USA Today bestselling series, INFINITUS BILLIONAIRES.

Impulse (book 1) was published in January 2015. Indulge (Aug 4th). 

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27 Revelations Book Tour + Giveaway 

Contemporary Women’s Fiction

Date Published: 04.11.2017


Mara Goodwin is a professional keeper of secrets, or that is what she intends to be. As a counseling psychology student at Northwestern, Mara’s ambition is unrivaled. She has the grades, the compassion, and the dedication, everything she needs to gain entry into the clinical psychology program.

However, after a traumatic experience leaves Mara in a state of mental distress, she finds herself keeping more secrets than she intended, most of them her own. Finding herself in trouble with the law, her dreams of being a therapist are jeopardized and as a consequence, Mara is ultimately forced into group therapy. While in therapy, Mara holds on to her secrets with a death grip, but when life comes full circle, her past is revealed and with it the potential to destroy her future career, her friendships, and ultimately herself.

Mara is a fighter, even if she doesn’t know it yet, but with each attempt to salvage what she can of her broken life, she is met with a consistent punch to the gut. After being pushed to the edge by meddling roommates, a persistent ex-boyfriend, and a potential new boyfriend, Mara comes to the precipice of her destruction. Yet with her destruction also comes her rebirth, and revelations of love, pain, and growth.



I lay in the closet naked, buried in a heap of dirty T-shirts and sweatpants that smelled like a combination of sour milk and sweat. If they could only talk, I thought. But if they could, I knew that my ears would be filled with expletive-filled rants for not having washed them a week ago. 

I rolled over and my back smacked the floor, shooting pain up the back of my neck and into my head. My skin was hot but the coolness of the wooden floor surged through my body like an electrical current. I stretched my legs out, reveling in how good it felt to straighten them. I let them rest outside of the closet door, one tingling from being coiled like a scrunchie and the other freezing, attacked by the cold air gusting from the ceiling vent. Rosalina was home. Her inconsiderate tendencies had me beyond pissed and the day hadn’t even started. Always setting the thermostat to frigid, not caring if the rest of us suffered from hypothermia. 

Sleep fogged my eyes and the smell of morning breath funk on my upper lip made my nose curl. What the hell was I doing in the closet? A thought I should have had earlier. I sat up fast, head spinning as the fringes of a dress swayed before me. I remembered that dress. It took me forever to get into but Frankie had needed no time to get it off. I didn’t know why, but the thought made me cringe and feel weak in the knees at the same time. It was on the left side of the closet, the untouched side. The side where my cute clothes went to die and collect dust after my sweat suits conquered the rest of the space. 

It had happened again, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Before, I was only losing moments. Seconds of time. Small pieces of conversation here and there, but now I was missing the last several hours. I assumed that I had lost most to sleep but there were at least three or four that weren’t accounted for. I feared standing, certain that it would make my headache worse, so I crawled, skin brushing against the clothes that lay in my path. I felt like a worm dying in the sun as I crept out into the light and into the heart of my room. I got to my feet and a couple pairs of dirty underwear fell from my back to the floor. I looked around my room, rubbing my eyes in disbelief. 

Sweat pants, shirts, bras, and all other manner of dirty clothing were scattered across the room. My bed was covered in research articles and books, as was my desk, which sat in the corner near the window. Several pairs of Chuck Taylors were askew against the wall, and the sun shining in made the dust particles dancing about more evident. I was not a slob by nature, but my room was now a disaster, a landfill. Everything that once had a place had none. This was not how I left my room yesterday. 

The house was quiet, but I knew that my peace wouldn’t last long. I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing, chiming from an undisclosed location in my mess of a room. I kicked up clothes and moved books and papers from bed to floor with one smooth brush of an arm, but the damn thing stopped before I could find it. I still wasn’t completely awake, and the thought of having to search everything made my head hurt even more. I stormed around the room, tossing everything to an area of less clutter, until I caught a glimpse of myself in the floor mirror next to my desk and realized that I was still naked. 

Why am I naked? 

I reached down to the floor and rummaged through a pile of clothes, looking for a long T-shirt to put on. Maybe Frankie had been there, or maybe it was someone else. My heart stopped. Could it have been someone else? I crouched down to the floor. 

“Hello…” I called out, still hearing the sleep in my voice. I pulled a dirty clothes pile up to my naked body. There was no response, so in relief I let the bundle fall back to the floor, keeping only a semi-clean tee, and resumed my search. 

I held the T-shirt in my hand and viewed my naked form in the mirror, still not seeing the beauty that people tended to babble on about. I never thought that I was beautiful, but I didn’t think I was ugly either. The sunlight blessed my body, and I admired the brownness of my skin and the slenderness of my face, but I still found myself wishing I looked like my mother. The Jamaican goddess whose curves could rival any racetrack. Unfortunately I took after my scrawny father, whose leanness left me small-chested and ass-less. 

After I had scrutinized myself enough, I finally put on the shirt and kept searching for my phone. Moments later I found it blinking in the trash can. I dusted it off and examined it, hoping that none of the gunk from the trash had attached itself. I had three missed calls from Frankie, two from my mother, and an array of text messages I had no intention of responding to. But Frankie I couldn’t ignore, so I called him. 

“Where the hell are you?”

I could hear the fright in his voice but it was overpowered by condescension. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Why didn’t you call when you got home?” 

My heart raced. “Jesus, Frankie, you don’t have to interrogate me. What is it? What’s wrong?” I reached down to collect the pile of books I had swept from bed to floor. My hand sweat lingered on the book covers as I tried to organize them on the shelf. I was shaking, waiting for him to tell me something horrible. To tell me I had hurt someone, or even worse, to tell me that we had sex.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

“I don’t know!” I took a book in my hand and threw it across the room. “That’s why I’m calling you!”

“Well, you don’t have to be a—”

“Be what, Frankie? A bitch? I don’t remember coming home last night.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yea, shit.” I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling research papers crumpling under the weight of my body. The sound was excruciating to my ears but so was the sound of Frankie’s paternal voice so early in the morning.

“The last thing I remember is your apartment. I called you hoping you could shed some light, but you’re obviously no help.” 

He took a deep breath. “Yea, Mara. That’s me. Mr. No Fucking Help.” 

His sarcasm wasn’t helping.

“Don’t be a smartass, Frankie,” I said. “Now do you have anything important to tell me? Otherwise you’re wasting my time.”

“You said you had to go home and work on your thesis so you could get to bed early to get to that meet—”

“Son of a bitch.” I took my thumb and index finger, rubbed my eyes, then squeezed the bridge of my nose to relieve the pressure that had been building up in my head. “I almost forgot about the meeting. What time is it?” 

“You did forget, and it’s 8:15.”

I hated him for calling me out.

“I got to go… and don’t call me back. I’ll call you if I want to be bothered, so find someone else to harass today.” 

He laughed. “Whatever, Mara. Besides, probation officers don’t like to be kept waiting. I shouldn’t even be associating with people like you anyway.”

“What do you mean people like me?” I asked.

“You know… delinquents. Menaces to society.”

“That’s not funny. Not even a little bit,” I said. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t do it. I wasn’t going to open that can of worms. Not today.

“Come on. I’m only messing with you. Good luck, and let me know how it goes,” he said.

“Yea, whatever.” I hung up the phone. 

I darted to my closet to find something suitable to wear. I had sweat pants hanging there, but I knew those weren’t going to work, not for a meeting so important, but I couldn’t be without them, so I pulled some out. I fingered through the clothes on the forbidden side and pulled out the longest, plainest skirt and blouse I could find along with a pair of dress flats and threw them on top of my bed. I grabbed a tote bag from the closet shelf and threw in a gray sweat suit, a shirt, and some Chucks and dashed to the bathroom. I tried to let myself in but the door was locked. I didn’t have time for this. I balled up my fist and banged on the door so hard it made my hand sting.

“Who’s in there?” I asked. I listened for movement. “I have to be on campus in thirty minutes!” 

There was no response.

I banged again.

“I need in!”

The lock jiggled, and the door cracked open. Kate stood there wrapped in a towel, her face engulfed by her wet blonde hair. She was pretty, if having keen facial features was the current beauty standard, but her personality was just as sharp as her face.

“You can have the bathroom when I am done,” she said, her face stoic as she peered at me from behind the door. 

I stared at her and wondered what it would feel like to plunge my fist into her face. She was trying to be a smartass. She closed the door and locked it, as if I planned on barging in on her. I could see her in there now, wasting time, sitting on the toilet wrapped in her towel reading a Cosmo, Glamour, or whatever magazines women like her had an affinity for. It was May, I’d moved into the house in February, and I could count on one hand the number times we’ve spoken to each other. I walked away and was only a few steps gone when I heard her yell through the door. 

“Next time get up earlier!”

I dug my nails into the palm of my hand so hard I thought I would draw blood. I stared at the door waiting for her to say something else, wanting her to say something else. It wouldn’t take much for me take it down and do it, punch her square in the nose, but I opted against it. I didn’t need to create another problem for myself. I’d hired her father as my attorney out of an act of desperation and I needed him on my side, so punching and drowning his daughter in the toilet didn’t seem like the right decision to make at the moment. 

When my eyes stopped seeing red, Rosalina stood in the kitchen, staring at me with her disapproving little beady brown eyes. Rosalina wasn’t fat, but she was thicker than the rest of us, and every time I ran into her she was in the kitchen drinking something, cooking something, or eating something. I don’t think I ever saw her in street clothes, either. She was always in scrubs with her hair pulled tight away from her face, sterile and unwelcoming. I stopped worrying about Kate and walked through the living room. 

Our house was aesthetically pleasing, but it was not a house full of warmth and love. It had an open floor plan with rich-colored hardwood floors, soft blue paint on the walls, and a cream-colored sectional that sat in the middle of the living room with an assortment of throws and pillows. It appeared that everyone but me brought something to make it homey. Rosalina had her Wizard of Oz trinkets on display, Kate liked flowers, and Melanie had hung up wall pieces with happy home quotes. Melanie was the only one that I didn’t hate, but she was always at her boyfriend’s so I didn’t understand why she still claimed to live here. 

I walked toward the kitchen but stopped by the thermostat to turn the air up just to piss Rosalina off, the whole time feeling those beady eyes searing through me. 

“Can you not mess with that, please?” she asked, clearly irritated that I had the audacity to even touch it in her presence.

“It’s at sixty-five and it’s freezing in here. It’s not even eighty degrees outside,” I said.

I didn’t know the real temp, but I knew it wasn’t hot enough to have it blaring. It was May in Evanston, and even in August there would be no temp that could justify it being that cold. 

“Well, maybe you should put some clothes on,” she said, looking me up and down, analyzing my bare legs and my frozen nipples on full display through my shirt.

“Maybe you should get a fan.” 

That was it. I didn’t have a better comeback than that.

She gave me such a look I thought that the butter knife in her hand was going to fly across the room and plunge into my heart, but she waved me off and continued chewing on her toast. I didn’t let my eyes leave hers until my foot got caught. I looked down and saw my ankle was tangled up in Kate’s purse straps. I shook my foot in hopes of freeing myself from that hideous thing, taking note of how ugly it was. It was one of those name brand purses that had the company logo printed all across it that screamed, “Look, I have money!” And to make it worse, a tacky, glittery, yellow toad keychain dangled from the zipper. The girl had no taste. Rosalina watched me as I struggled. Her face was expressionless, but I knew she was amused. Once freed, I walked past her to the fridge to grab the orange juice, listening to her crunch on her food with every step I took, never out of her line of sight.

“You left that out on the counter yesterday. Put it back when you’re done, please,” she said. 

Was she my mother now?

“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes. 

I opened the cabinet next to the stove where we kept the glasses, but it was empty.

“Where are the clean glasses?” 

She spread butter on another piece of toast.

“Sorry, they’re dirty,” she said as she picked up her glass of water. “I took the last one.”

I shut the cabinet and crossed over to the other side of the kitchen and looked in the dishwasher. It was full of bowls with soggy fruit loops stuck to them, plates with last week’s spaghetti, and glasses with an assortment of lipstick colors and lip glosses painted on the rims. I grabbed a dirty glass out of the top rack, put the detergent in, and slammed the door. Four people lived in this house and nothing ever got done. The trash would never get taken out unless I took it. The dishes would never get washed unless I started a load. This was adulting at its worst. I washed out the glass and poured some juice, then leaned against the dishwasher sipping, waiting for Kate to get out of the bathroom.

I thought about my meeting and read one of Melanie’s homey house sayings that hung next to the TV. 

A house is made of bricks and beams; a home is made of love and dreams.

What bullshit. I turned my attention elsewhere, but caught Rosalina still staring at me, so I stared back. I assumed that she had just finished her shift at the hospital when I found her in her sanctuary. She had a career job, a nurse on the psych ward at some hospital, and on occasion it was nice to have someone to chat with about psychology, but she worked the night shift so we only saw each other in passing, which was fine with me. After a moment of staring I felt the tension subside a bit, so I caved and decided to initiate conversation.

“Long work night?” I asked.

“It wasn’t too bad,” she said as she slowly turned her body to face mine. “What about you? Looks like you had a rough one. Again.” I could hear the cheekiness in her tone. 

I cut my eye at her.

“No, it wasn’t a rough one. I just spent some time reorganizing.” 

“How’s that coming?” she took a sip of her water.

“Good.” I put glass in the sink, ready to return to my room and wait it out there before I continued this conversation.

“Can you please put your glass on the other side of the sink? I can’t use the sink if both sides are full,” Rosalina said. 

I looked at her, then looked back at the sink in disgust. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but one side overflowed with dirty dishes, none of which were mine. I rested my hands on the edge of the sink and squeezed. I could see the pink leave my fingertips as I pressed in. “I would put it on the other side of the sink but someone else has filled the other side to capacity, so what would you like me to do about it? Better yet—” 

“I’m done,” Kate said as she stormed out to of the bathroom into the living room. She grabbed her books and her ugly purse before walking over towards Rosalina. 

“Jesus take the wheel.” I rushed out of the kitchen toward the bathroom. When I looked back before shutting the door, Kate whispered something to Rosalina, and I could read my name on her lips. I wasn’t sure what they thought of me, but I didn’t care. When the lease was up, they could kick rocks. 

“Mara,” Kate said.

The bathroom door was shut so I pretended not to hear.

“Mara.” She was right outside the door. 

I cracked it open to see what she wanted, and her icy blue eyes were so close it made me jump.


“Don’t forget about the lunch today,” she said.

“What lunch?” I threw my arms up. She was wasting my time. 

She stepped back away from the door.

“The lunch,” she said as she continued to move farther back into the living room.

“You better not be trying to get out of it!” Rosalina yelled from the kitchen.

“Yeah, we suffer, you suffer,” Kate said, walking towards the entryway.

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

I closed the door to the bathroom and took a deep breath. The meeting. That’s where my focus needed to be. I kept telling myself to stay positive, but I knew I was toast. Everything over before it even started. I had this one opportunity to try and make it right. 

I just hoped I didn’t blow it.

Harlow Hayes was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. She has always had a passion for writing and storytelling in its many forms, and when she’s not immersed in her writing, she enjoys reading both fiction and non-fiction, watching movies, and listening to music. She currently lives in Chattanooga, TN. 27 Revelations is her first novel.


Contact Information

Website: https://harlowhayesbooks.com/

Facebook: Harlow Hayes @harlowhayesbooks

Twitter: Harlow Hayes @harlow_hayes

Blog: https://harlowhayesbooks.com/blog/

Goodreads: Harlow Hayes



Purchase Link

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/27-Revelations-Harlow-Hayes-ebook/dp/B01MR6S09F/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1485975946&sr=1-1&keywords=27+revelations


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Treacherous Deceit Book Tour + Giveaway

Treacherous Deceit

By Zola Blue

Genre: Adventure, Thriller, Mystery


In the Yukon, nothing is more important than family. Loyalty to her

family is what Mona must face when her Grandfather, who rescued her

from death as a child and raised her as his own tells her she must

return to the Yukon from New York to go into the mountains and search

for the ancient village of gold that is her legacy.

Convinced that the ancient village exists, her grandfather sent his team on

ATV’s to find it while commissioning his adopted son Jonas to lead

the others, including his cherished granddaughter.

Jonas is happy to lead the expedition while planning on somehow getting Mona alone. His plan goes astray when they are forced to team with four other unexpected

seekers, including Bryan, a geologist who immediately falls for Mona

and becomes an interference for Jonas. The team overcomes severe

obstacles, setbacks, and loss of lives while traveling through water

filled caves and treacherous mountain passages.

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When I allowed God to take over my life, over the years, he healed my

heart and with the guidance of his Holy Spirit, a new life developed

within me. God put a new dream in my heart. Over the years, I spent

several years in the US Air Force, and later achieved a BA in

Psychology and the academic level of Master’s Degree in Business

and currently work as a professional in the insurance industry.

Married, I live with my husband and sweet puppy Tomasina. I have two

books currently published, Porcelain Doll and Treacherous Deceit and

I am currently finishing my third, a fantasy series called “The

Kingdom of the Mejuar.”

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The Fairytale of Francesca Finnegan Book Tour + Giveaway 

The Fairytale Chicago of Francesca Finnegan

by Steve Wiley

Genre: Fantasy

“Intelligent, Enchanting, Playful” ~ Publishers Weekly

Warning: Content may be deemed offensive by Polish Indians, vice presidents of
something, my wife, Finbar Finnegan’s wife, LinkedIn, little kids who
think this book is for little kids, Thumbelina, Brown Liners,
mermaids, and the wind.

Growing up and getting trapped in adult life is something that most people
eventually face, but while reading The Fairytale Chicago of Francesca
Finnegan, a charming and magical book by Steve Wiley, it is almost
possible to forget about the inexorable progress of time. With a main
character who is teetering on the edge of forgetting about magic
forever, this novel is a touching and thought-provoking ride through
nostalgia, memory and the promises of youth. Wiley’s sharp,
tongue-in-cheek style of writing makes the pages fly and the Chicago
skyline makes a stunning backdrop for this mystical romp.

In Chicago, a secret L train runs through the mythical East Side of the
city. On that train, you’ll find a house-cat conductor, an
alcoholic elf, a queen of the last city farm, the most curious wind,
and an exceptional girl by the name of Francesca Finnegan.

When we first encounter Richard K. Lyons, he is a man who has long
forgotten the one night, when he was still a boy called Rich, when
Francesca invited him aboard the secret L for an adventure through
the East Side. The night was a mad epic, complete with
gravity-defying first kisses, mermaid overdoses, and princess
rescues. Unfortunately for Rich, the night ended like one of those
elusive dreams forgotten the moment you wake. Now, Rich is all grown
up and out of childish adventures, an adult whose life is on the
verge of ruin. It will take the rediscovery of his exploits with
Francesca, and a reacquaintance with the boy he once was, to save

Half of the proceeds from this book are donated to Chicago Public Schools.
For more information, visit fairytalechicago.com.

Goodreads * Amazon

Steve is a father, husband, uncle, brother, friend, and purveyor of fairy
stories. He grew up in and around Chicagoland, where he still lives
with his wife and two kids. He has been published in an array of
strange and serious places, from the U.S. Chamber of Commerce in
Washington, D.C., to Crannóg magazine in Galway, Ireland. The
Fairytale Chicago of Francesca Finnegan is his first book. He has an
undergraduate degree in something he has forgotten from Illinois
State University and a graduate degree in something equally forgotten
from DePaul University. Steve once passionately kissed a bronze
seahorse in the middle of Buckingham Fountain. Seriously, he did.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Goodreads * Amazon

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Sponsoredby JKS Communications

Hostedby Silver Dagger Book Tours

The Truth Will Out Book Tour + Giveaway

The Truth Will Out

by Karen J Mossman

Genre: Thriller, Suspense


Kelly needs to escape from her abusive and controlling boyfriend, but she’s

terrified to leave. She’s then given a chance to start a fresh, but

is the cost for her freedom too high?

Sarah is happy in her life. She has a dream job and a perfect roommate. But

when a brick is thrown through the window, followed by a letter

containing razor blades, her life starts to spin out of control.

Detective Ryan Andrews is on the case and the two quickly form a

close bond.

Will Kelly pay that price for freedom? Can Sarah’s secret past be kept

from Ryan?

In the end The Truth Will Out.

Goodreads * Amazon



Karen J Mossman comes from a family of journalists with her grandfather and

uncle having been newspaper editors. Further back a 2x grandfather

wrote for his local paper and also published a book based on those

articles. Karen is the only one to go into fiction.

Two of her novels are romantic suspense and one is a thriller. She also

has three themed short story collections.

Karen is also an avid blogger and book reviewer, “It’s especially

important to me to have feedback from my readers, so please leave a

review when you have read one of my books.”

Karen lives on the beautiful Isle of Anglesey off the North Wales coast

with her husband and elderly Yorkshire terrier. She has two grown up

children, who were both born on the same day, two years apart.

“I enjoy writing in different genres and you can see some of my shorter

stories on my website.”

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads



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The Echo Man Book Tour + Giveaway

The Echo Man

by Richard Montanari

on Tour March 20 – April 7, 2017


The Echo Man by Richard Montanari

It is fall in Philadelphia and the mutilated body of a man has been found in one of the poorest neighborhoods of the city. The victim’s forehead and eyes are wrapped in a band of white paper, sealed on one side with red sealing wax. On the other side is a smear of blood in the shape of a figure eight. The victim has been roughly and violently shaved clean — head to toe — a temporary tattoo on his finger.

As another brutalized body appears, then another, it becomes horrifyingly clear that someone is re-creating unsolved murders from Philadelphia’s past in the most sinister of ways.

And, for homicide detectives Kevin Byrne and Jessica Balzano, the killer is closer than they think…


“This tale had me gripped by the throat, unwilling to do anything but anxiously turn the pages. Richard Montanari’s writing is both terrifying and lyrical, a killer combination that makes him a true stand-out in the crowded thriller market. The Echo Man showcases a master storyteller at his very best.” -Tess Gerritsen, bestselling author of The Silent Girl

“Richard Montanari’s The Echo Man continues his work as a writer whose prose can capture quite extraordinary subtleties. When a man’s facial expression is described as “not the look of someone with nothing to hide, but rather of one who has very carefully hidden everything,” we know we are in good hands, and with The Echo Man, we are in the hands of one of the best in the business”. – Thomas H. Cook, bestselling author of Red Leaves

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Thriller
Published by: Witness Impulse
Publication Date: February 7th 2017 (first published January 1st 2011)
Number of Pages: 400
ISBN: 0062467425 (ISBN13: 9780062467423)
Series: Jessica Balzano & Kevin Byrne #5
Purchase Links: Amazon  | Barnes & Noble  | Goodreads 

Read an excerpt:

For every light there is shadow. For every sound, silence. From the moment he got the call Detective Kevin Francis Byrne had a premonition this night would forever change his life, that he was headed to a place marked by a profound evil, leaving only darkness in its wake.

    “You ready?”

    Byrne glanced at Jimmy. Detective Jimmy Purify sat in the passenger seat of the bashed and battered department- issue Ford. He was just a few years older than Byrne, but something in the man’s eyes held deep wisdom, a hard- won experience that transcended time spent on the job and spoke instead of time earned. They’d known each other a long time, but this was their first full tour as partners.

    “I’m ready,” Byrne said.

    He wasn’t.

    They got out of the car and walked to the front entrance of the sprawling, well- tended Chestnut Hill mansion. Here, in this exclusive section of the northwest part of the city, there was history at every turn, a neighborhood designed at a time when Philadelphia was second only to London as the largest English- speaking city in the world. The first officer on the scene, a rookie named Timothy Meehan, stood inside the foyer, cloistered by coats and hats and scarves perfumed with age, just beyond the reach of the cold autumn wind cutting across the grounds.

    Byrne had been in Officer Meehan’s shoes a handful of years earlier and remembered well how he’d felt when detectives arrived, the tangle of envy and relief and admiration. Chances were slight that Meehan would one day do the job Byrne was about to do. It took a certain breed to stay in the trenches, especially in a city like Philly, and most uniformed cops, at least the smart ones, moved on. 

    Byrne signed the crime- scene log and stepped into the warmth of the atrium, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells. He would never again enter this scene for the first time, never again breathe an air so red with violence. Looking into the kitchen, he saw a blood splattered killing room, scarlet murals on pebbled white tile, the torn flesh of the victim jigsawed on the floor.

    While Jimmy called for the medical examiner and crime- scene unit, Byrne walked to the end of the entrance hall. The officer standing there was a veteran patrolman, a man of fifty, a man content to live without ambition. At that moment Byrne envied him. The cop nodded toward the room on the other side of the corridor.

    And that was when Kevin Byrne heard the music.

    She sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room. The walls were covered with a forest-green silk; the floor with an exquisite burgundy Persian. The furniture was sturdy, in the Queen Anne style. The air smelled of jasmine and leather.

    Byrne knew the room had been cleared, but he scanned every inch of it anyway. In one corner stood an antique curio case with beveled glass doors, its shelves arrayed with small porcelain figurines. In another corner leaned a beautiful cello. Candlelight shimmered on its golden surface.

    The woman was slender and elegant, in her late twenties. She had burnished russet hair down to her shoulders, eyes the color of soft copper. She wore a long black gown, sling-back heels, pearls. Her makeup was a bit garish—theatrical, some might say—but it flattered her delicate features, her lucent skin.

    When Byrne stepped fully into the room the woman looked his way, as if she had been expecting him, as if he might be a guest for Thanksgiving dinner, some discomfited cousin just in from Allentown or Ashtabula. But he was neither. He was there to arrest her.

    “Can you hear it?” the woman asked. Her voice was almost adolescent in its pitch and resonance.

    Byrne glanced at the crystal CD case resting on a small wooden easel atop the expensive stereo component. Chopin: Nocturne in G Major. Then he looked more closely at the cello. There was fresh blood on the strings and fingerboard, as well as on the bow lying on the floor. Afterward, she had played.

    The woman closed her eyes. “Listen,” she said. “The blue notes.”

    Byrne listened. He has never forgotten the melody, the way it both lifted and shattered his heart.

    Moments later the music stopped. Byrne waited for the last note to feather into silence. “I’m going to need you to stand up now, ma’am,” he said.

    When the woman opened her eyes Byrne felt something flicker in his chest. In his time on the streets of Philadelphia he had met all types of people, from soulless drug dealers, to oily con men, to smash-and-grab artists, to hopped-up joyriding kids. But never before had he encountered anyone so detached from the crime they had just committed. In her light-brown eyes Byrne saw demons caper from shadow to shadow.

    The woman rose, turned to the side, put her hands behind her back. Byrne took out his handcuffs, slipped them over her slender white wrists, and clicked them shut.

    She turned to face him. They stood in silence now, just a few inches apart, strangers not only to each other, but to this grim pageant and all that was to come.

    “I’m scared,” she said.

    Byrne wanted to tell her that he understood. He wanted to say that we all have moments of rage, moments when the walls of sanity tremble and crack. He wanted to tell her that she would pay for her crime, probably for the rest of her life—perhaps even with her life—but that while she was in his care she would be treated with dignity and respect.

    He did not say these things. “My name is Detective Kevin Byrne,” he said. “It’s going to be all right.” It was November 1, 1990. Nothing has been right since.

Excerpt from The Echo Man by Richard Montanari.  Copyright © 2017 by Richard Montanari. Reproduced with permission from Witness Impulse. All rights reserved.

Richard Montanari

Author Bio:

Richard Montanari is the internationally bestselling author of numerous novels, including the nine titles in the Byrne & Balzano series.

He lives in Cleveland, Ohio.

Catch Up With Our Author On:

Website Goodreads Twitter , & Facebook !

Tour Participants:

Don’t forget to check out these other stops – they’ll be featuring reviews, interviews & More giveaways!


3/20 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader


3/21 Review/Showcase @ Kara the Redhead


3/21 Showcase @ The Book Divas Reads


3/22 Interview @ Books Direct


3/22 Showcase @ Books, Dreams, Life


3/23 Interview/Showcase @ CMash Reads


3/24 Showcase @ Bound 2 Escape


3/27 Showcase @ A Bookaholic Swede


3/28 Interview @ BooksChatter


4/01 Showcase @ Suspense Magazine


4/04 Showcase @ The Pulp and Mystery Shelf


4/05 Review @ JBronder Book Reviews


4/07 Review @ Bookalicious Traveladdict

This linky list is now closed.

Linky Tools  |  Linky Blog 2013


This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Richard Montanari and Harper Collins. There will be 5 winners of one (1) eBook copy of The Echo Man by Richard Montanari. The giveaway begins on March 20th and runs through April 9th, 2017.

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Nine Facts That Can Change Your Life Book Tour + Giveaway


Facts That Can Change Your Life


Ronna Wineberg


Contemporary Fiction, Short Stories


this stirring new collection, Ronna Wineberg explores our essential

bonds to partners, children, parents, and friends. Intimacy,

marriage, parenthood, adultery, divorce, and the legacies left by the

past unfold in these beautifully written stories. Men and women

search for happiness and love, yet face longing, disappointment, and

loss. The characters in Nine Facts That Can Change Your Life struggle

with unexpected changes in their own lives but discover the power of

kindness, the joy of connection, and the ways in which we can be


Goodreads * Amazon


Wineberg is the author of NINE FACTS THAT CAN CHANGE YOUR LIFE, a

collection of short stories, ON BITTERSWEET PLACE, a novel, and a

debut collection, SECOND LANGUAGE, which won the New Rivers Press

Many Voices Project Literary Competition, and was the runner-up for

the Reform Judaism Prize for Jewish Fiction. Her stories have

appeared in American Way, Colorado Review, Michigan Quarterly Review,

South Dakota Review and elsewhere, and have been broadcast on

National Public Radio. She is the recipient of a scholarship in

fiction from the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, a fellowship in

fiction from the New York Foundation for the Arts, and residencies to

the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts and the Ragdale Foundation.

She is the founding fiction editor of the Bellevue Literary Review.

Website * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads 

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Sponsored By:

JKS Communications


by Silver Dagger Book Tours

Single Malt Murder Book Tour + Giveaway 

Single Malt Murder
by Melinda Mullet

Single Malt Murder: A Whisky Business Mystery

Ballantine Group; Alibi | On Sale: March 21st, 2017 | ISBN: 9780399179051| 300 Pages | Price: $4.99

When Abi inherits her uncle’s quaint and storied single malt distillery, she finds herself immersed in a competitive high-stakes business that elicits deep passions and prejudices. An award-winning photojournalist, Abi has no trouble capturing the perfect shot—but making the perfect shot is another matter. When she starts to receive disturbing, anonymous threats, it’s clear that someone wants her out of the picture. But Abi’s never been one to back down from a fight.

Arriving on the scene with her whisky-loving best friend, Patrick, and an oversized wheaten terrier named Liam, Abi seems to put everyone in the bucolic village on edge—especially her dour but disturbingly attractive head distiller. Acts of sabotage and increasingly personal threats against Abi make it clear that she is not welcome. When one of Abi’s new employees is found floating facedown in a vat of whisky, Abi is determined to use her skills as an investigative journalist to identify the cold-blooded killer and dispense a dram of justice before he strikes again. But distilling truth from lies is tricky, especially when everyone seems to have something to hide.


Melinda Mullet was born in Dallas and attended school in Texas, Washington D.C., England, and Austria. She spent many years as a practicing attorney before pursuing a career as a writer. Author of the Whisky Business Mystery series, Mullet is a passionate supporter of childhood literacy. She works with numerous domestic and international charities striving to promote functional literacy for all children. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her family.

Author Links 

Webpage – http://melindamullet.com/

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/mulletmysteries/

Twitter – https://twitter.com/mulletmysteries

Purchase Links

Amazon  B&N  Google Play


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Tour Participants

March 20 – MysteriesEtc – REVIEW

March 20 – Brooke Blogs – GUEST POST

March 21 – Community Bookstop – REVIEW  

March 21 – Books,Dreams,Life – SPOTLIGHT

March 22 – Babs Book Bistro – REVIEW

March 23 – Rainy Day Reviews – REVIEW

March 23 – Island Confidential – SPOTLIGHT

March 24 – Shelley’s Book Case – REVIEW

March 24 – A Holland Reads – GUEST POST

March 25 – The Pulp and Mystery Shelf – INTERVIEW

March 26 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW

March 27 – My Journey Back – REVIEW

March 27 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

March 28 – Back Porchervations – REVIEW

March 28 – A Blue Million Books – INTERVIEW

March 29 – StoreyBook Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

March 29 – Reading Is My SuperPower – REVIEW

March 30 – Dee-Scoveries – SPOTLIGHT

March 30 – Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

March 31 – I Read What You Write – REVIEW

April 1 – Bibliophile Reviews – REVIEW, GUEST POST  

April 1 – Sleuth Cafe – SPOTLIGHT

April 2 – Varietas – REVIEW

April 2 – Author Annette Drake’s blog – INTERVIEW

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Alan 2 Book Tour 


We invite you to Bruce Forciea’s ALAN 2 Blog Tour! Please leave a comment to let Bruce know you stopped by!



Author: Bruce Forciea

Publisher: Open Books

Pages: 278

Genre: Cyber-Thriller

A brilliant artificial intelligence (AI) scientist, Dr. Alan
Boyd, develops a new program that integrates part of his brain with a
computer’s operating system. The program, Alan 2, can anticipate a user’s needs
and automatically perform many tasks. A large software company, International
Microsystems (IM) desperately wants the program and tempts Dr. Boyd with huge
sums of money, but when Dr. Boyd refuses their offer, IM sabotages his job,
leaving him in a difficult financial situation.

Dr. Boyd turns to Alan 2 for an answer to his financial
problems, and Alan 2 develops plan Alpha, which is a cyber robin hood scheme to
rob from rich corporations via a credit card scam.

Alan and his girlfriend Kaitlin travel to Mexico
where they live the good life funded by plan Alpha, but the FBI cybercrime
division has discovered part of Alan 2’s cyber escapades, and two agents,
Rachel and Stu, trace the crime through the TOR network and Bitcoin.

Alan 2 discovers the FBI is on to them and advises Alan and
Kaitlin to change locations. A dramatic chase ensues taking them to St.
Thomas, a cruise ship bound for Spain,
and finally to Morocco. 

Will they escape detection? They will if Alan 2’s Plan Beta
can be implemented in time. Or is ‘Plan B’ something altogether different than
it appears to be, something wholly sinister that will affect the entire
population of the world?

the trailer at YouTube!

Purchase Information:


| Barnes
& Noble
| Publisher


Bang! Bang!
Bang! The flimsy apartment door rattled on its frame with every blow.

don’t even think of answering that!” Alan growled through his teeth.

shrugged her shoulders and moved away from the door toward the living room
where Alan sat at a table full of electronics gear.

“Dr. Boyd,
are you home?” shouted the voice on the other side of the door in an Indian
accent. “I want to talk to you. I have a very good offer. Please, Dr. Boyd, it
will only take a minute, and I think you will be quite pleased with what we
have for you.”

“Go away;
leave us alone,” Alan shouted. “I don’t want your offer.”

Dr. Boyd, we do
pay very well. We are great admirers of your work.”

“I don’t care
and I don’t want your money,” said Alan. “Now go away before I call the

“Think about
it, Dr. Boyd; I will be in touch.”

bastards,” said Alan as his attention turned back to his work. “I’ll cherish
the day they leave us alone. Kaitlin, come over here and help me with this

Alan rolled
up the sleeve of his t-shirt while Kaitlin picked up the syringe containing the
gadolinium contrast. She pinched an ample section of skin and plunged the
syringe into his arm. The needle stung like an angry wasp, causing Alan to

“Can’t you be
gentle? You’ve done enough of these by now to get the hang of it. You shouldn’t
jam it in like that!”

rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I think I do pretty well considering I
don’t have any medical training,” she said while jerking the syringe out of his

“Okay, okay.
Just take your position at the console.”

She sighed,
plopped onto a small task chair and rolled over to a makeshift wooden table
holding a desktop PC and a large high-definition monitor. She had been through
this process countless times before.

Alan entered a
large metallic structure in the center of the living room. The box-like
structure, made of aluminum, dominated the rectangular room which was devoid of
furniture. Its dull silver hue contrasted the blank walls. He closed the door
and climbed into a chair that looked like it came from an early Gemini
spacecraft. The stiff plastic chair, sandwiched between two large metal discs,
afforded a good deal of postural support but little comfort. He sat down and
slowly slid his head between the thick metal and plastic arms of a large
U-shaped device. There was just enough clearance as he wriggled his head to
achieve the perfect position. He pulled down on a large metallic tube suspended
above him so that it surrounded his entire head. He positioned the tube so that
the rectangular slit lined up with his visual axis, allowing for a line of
sight to the monitor located outside of the tube. The small fMRI scanner had
taken a good deal of time and money to cobble together, but it was the only way
to capture the needed information from his brain.

Alan viewed
Kaitlin through a small round Plexiglas window in the door and signaled with a
thumbs-up to begin the scan. She waved and entered the start sequence into the
keyboard, sat back, slid an unlit cigarette between her lips and picked up a
copy of People Magazine. He pushed
his head back against the headrest and adjusted the monitor suspended on a boom
so he could see the screen. The machine first hummed as it powered up and then
made periodic knocking sounds.

Alan focused
his attention on the monitor while the scanner began its first sequence. The
monitor displayed a series of images designed to evoke emotions. Each image
popped onto the screen and persisted for ten seconds before another replaced
it. There was a small child holding hands with his father, a mother holding a
baby, a couple admiring their child in a crib, and many more. All the images
had been chosen to trigger emotional responses, causing changes in blood flow
to certain areas of Alan’s brain. An image would appear for a few seconds and
then the machine would complete a scan. 
The process repeated until all one hundred twenty-seven images had been
displayed. The entire cycle then repeated two more times with random sequences
of the same set of images.

This would be
the final scan involving diffusion tensor imaging of Alan’s frontal lobes.
Previous scans had involved the study of responses to a variety of topics. In
addition to emotions such as sadness, joy, anxiety, and fear, there were
cognitive studies that examined Alan’s problem solving techniques as well as
his reaction to global events. In all, there were over one hundred fifty scans
taken over the past two years. 

About the Author

Bruce Forciea is known for taking complex scientific
concepts and making them easy to understand through engaging stories and simple
explanations. He is an Amazon Best Selling Author and author of several books
on healing and biology, along with science fiction thriller novels. His fiction
writing draws on a diverse and eclectic background that includes touring and
performing with a professional show, designing digital circuits, treating
thousands of patients, and teaching. His stories include complex plots with
unexpected twists and turns, quirky characters, and a reality very similar to
our own. Dr. Forciea lives in Wisconsin
and loves writing during the solitude of the long Northern winters. 

Website & Social Links: