I will NOT be taking anymore review requests at this time, because I'm a bit overwhelmed and getting behind.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

{Book Blitz} Witch’s Moonstone Locket (A Coon Hollow Coven Tale Book One) by Marsha A. Moore

Witch’s Moonstone Locket
A Coon Hollow Coven Tale
Book One
Marsha A. Moore

Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance

Date of Publication: March 24, 2015

Word Count: 94,000

Book Description:

Twenty-three-year-old Jancie Sadler was out of the room when her mother died, and her heart still longs for their lost goodbye. Aching to ease her sorrow, Aunt Starla gives Jancie a diary that changes her entire life. In entries from the 1930s, her great grandmother revealed how she coped with her own painful loss by seeking out a witch from nearby Coon Hollow Coven. The witch wore the griever’s moonstone locket, which allowed whoever could unlock its enchantment to talk with the dead.

Determined to find that locket, Jancie goes to the coven’s annual carnival held in her small southern Indiana town of Bentbone. This opposes her father’s strict rule: stay away from witches. But she’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. She meets Rowe McCoy, the kind and handsome witch who wears the moonstone. He agrees to let her try to open the locket, but they’re opposed by High Priestess Adara and her jealous desire to possess him.

Desperate for closure with her mother, Jancie persists and cannot turn away from a perilous path filled with magic, romance, and danger.


Excerpt from Chapter One: Great Aunt Starla’s Cornbread

Warm rain mixed with Jancie’s tears, and she rose to stand beside her mother’s grave. Not ready to let go, she bent at the waist and her fingers followed the arc of her mother’s name—Faye Sadler—in the headstone. She knew the unyielding shape well. The word goodbye stuck in her throat. She’d said it aloud many times since her mother died almost a year ago, only to have the cemetery’s vast silence swallow her farewells. Rain beaded on the polished granite. Her hand, bearing her mother’s silver ring, slid down the stone and fell to her side.
If only she could’ve said goodbye to her mother before. After years of caring for her mom while she suffered with cancer, Jancie had missed the final parting moment while getting a quick bite of dinner. The pain still cut like a knife in her gut.
On foot, she retraced the too-familiar path toward her work at the Federal Bank. Although she’d landed a job as manager at the largest of the three banks in the small town of Bentbone, the position was a dead end. Within the first six months, she’d mastered all the necessary skills. Now, after a year, only the paycheck kept her there.
Jancie turned onto Maple Street. As usual, wind swept up the corridor, between old shade trees protecting houses, and met her at the top of the tall hill. September rain pelted her face and battled the Indian summer noontime temperatures. She zipped the rain parka to keep her dress dry, pulled on the strings of the hood, and corralled strands of ginger-colored hair that whipped into her eyes. Once able to see, she gazed farther into the valley, where the view spanned almost a mile out to the edge of town. Usually, farmers moved tractors across the road or boys raced skateboards and bikes down Maple Street’s long slope.
Today, on the deserted acreage just east of Bentbone, people moving in and out through a gate of the tall wooden fence breathed life into the rundown carnival. Surprised, Jancie crossed the street for a better view. She’d lost track of time since Mom passed. The coming Labor Day weekend in Bentbone meant the valley coven’s yearly carnival. She and her close group of girlfriends always looked forward to the cute guys, fair food, and amazing magical rides and decorations…even if her father didn’t approve of witches or magic. The residents of the sleepy town awoke to welcome a host of tourists wanting to see the spectacle created by the witches of Coon Hollow Coven.
Somehow, Jancie had forgotten the big event this year. Last year, she didn’t go since Mom was so sick and couldn’t be left. Jancie sighed and turned onto the main street toward the bank. She’d lost so much since her mother passed. Really, since the diagnosis of cancer.
At that time, four years ago, Jancie withdrew as a sophomore from Hanover College, a select, private school in southern Indiana near the Kentucky border—too far away. Instead, she returned to stay with her mother and commuted to Indiana University. Balancing hours with the home health care nurse, Jancie had few choices of career paths. Not that it mattered, since her remarried father expected her to find a job in Bentbone and continue taking care of her mother. Despite the sacrifices, Jancie loved her mother, who’d always managed money for a few special things for Jancie—a new bike, birthday parties, prom dresses—even though their income was tight. Mom had paid for her tuition and listened to every new and exciting college experience.
Jancie smiled at the memory of Mom’s twinkling brown eyes, that mirrored her own, when she asked about what happened during the day’s classes: if Jancie liked the professor; if she’d made new friends.
When she rounded the last corner, her thoughts returned to the work day. At the bleak, limestone bank building, reality hit. Jancie pulled against the heavy glass door, and a gust swept her inside. She peeled off the drenched jacket and hung it on the coat rack of her small, plain office. At her desk again, she took her position.
Through the afternoon’s doldrums, punctuated by only a handful of customers, her mind wandered to the carnival. She’d gone dozens of times before and loved it. But since Mom passed, nothing seemed fun anymore, like she couldn’t connect with herself and had forgotten how to have a good time. She organized a stack of notes, anything to put the concern out of her mind.
***
After work, Jancie drove her old blue Camry the five miles to the other end of town where she lived in her mother’s white frame house, the home where she grew up, now hers. Glad to own her own place, unlike her friends who rented, she’d made a few easy changes. In the living room, a new brown leather couch with a matching chair and ottoman. She replaced the bedroom furniture with a new oak suite for herself in what used to be her mother’s room. With pay saved from the bank, Jancie could remodel or build on, but she didn’t know what she wanted yet. Her great aunt Starla had told her to just wait and hold onto her money; she’d know soon enough.
Pouring rain soaked the hem of her dress as she darted between the garage shed and back stoop of the small ranch house.
Glad she’d chosen to get her run in this morning before work, she changed into cozy sweats, pulled the long part of her tapered hair into a ponytail, and headed for the kitchen.
Her phone alerted her of a text, and she read the message from her friend Rachelle, always the social director of their group: R we going to the carnival?
Jancie typed a response. I guess. R Lizbeth and Willow going?
Yep whole gang. What day?
Don’t know yet. Get back to u. Jancie worried she’d spoil their fun. Even though they’d all been her best friends since high school and would understand her moodiness, she didn’t want to ruin one of the best times of the year for them. Since Mom passed, they’d taken her out to movies and shopping in Bloomington, but this was different. Could it ever match up to the fun of all the times before? “I don’t know if I’m up to that,” she said into open door of the old Kenmore refrigerator while rummaging for leftovers of fried chicken and corn.
The meal satisfied and made her thankful she’d learned how to cook during those years with Mom. Not enough dishes to bother with the dishwasher, one of the modern upgrades to the original kitchen, Jancie washed the dishes by hand and then called Starla. When she answered, Jancie asked, “Can I come over tonight? There’s something I’m needing your opinion on.”
“Why sure, Jancie. C’mon over,” the eighty-five-year-old replied with her usual warm drawl. “Are you wantin’ dinner? I made me some soup beans with a big hambone just butchered from Bob’s hog. My neighbor Ellie came over and had some. She said they were the best she’s eaten.”
Jancie glanced at the soggy rain parka and opted for an umbrella instead. “No, I just ate. Be right over.” Keys and purse in hand, she hung up and darted for the shed.
Five minutes later, she turned onto the drive of the eldercare apartments and parked under the steel awning where Starla gave her a whole arm wave from her picture window. Jancie made her way to number twelve on the first floor.
The door opened, and Starla engulfed Jancie in a bear hug, pulling her into the pillow of a large, sagging bosom. Starla smelled of her signature scent—rosewater and liniment.
Jancie had loved her great aunt’s hugs as long as she could remember. Stress and worry melted away, and she hugged back. Her arm grazed Starla’s white curls along the collar of her blue knit top embroidered with white stars—her great aunt’s favorite emblem.
“It’s so good to see you. Come sit a spell, while I get us some iced tea.” Starla pulled away and gestured to the microsuede couch decorated with three crocheted afghans in a rainbow of colors. “I thought we were done with this hot weather, but not quite yet. That rain today’s been a gully washer but didn’t cool things off much.” The large-boned woman scuffed her pink-house-slippered feet toward the kitchen. “Would you rather have pound cake from the IGA or homemade cornbread?”
Jancie laughed and followed her into the kitchen. She wouldn’t get through the visit without eating. “You’re just fishin’ for a compliment. You know your homemade cornbread is better.”
Starla arranged plates with thick slices of warm cornbread and big pats of butter on top, while Jancie transferred the refreshments to the aluminum dinette table.
“With your hair pulled back like that, you’re a dead ringer for your Ma. So pretty with that same sweetheart-shaped face.” Starla folded herself onto a chair beside Jancie. “You look to be getting on well…considering what all you’ve been through.”
“I’m doing okay,” Jancie said through a mouthful of the moist cornbread. She washed it down with a swallow of brisk tea that tasted fresh-brewed. “But sometimes, lots of times, I feel lost, like I can’t move on.” She ran a hand across her forehead. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. I spent time with her through all those years, and it shouldn’t matter, but it does every time I visit her grave and most every night in my dreams.”
“Oh, honey. I know it hurts.” Starla smoothed Jancie’s ponytail down the middle of her back and spoke with a voice so slow and warm, it felt like a handmade quilt wrapping around her. “You spent all that time and gave so much. Just like when I cared for my husband some twenty years back. I know. I never got the chance to tell Harry goodbye either. Time will heal all hurts.”
Jancie looked down at the marbleized tabletop to hide her teary eyes. “I don’t think I’m ever going to heal, Aunt Starla. I don’t know if I can ever move on.”
“There is one thing you can try. I’d have done it, if I’d have known before decades softened my aching heart. Way back, I was desperate like you.”
Jancie looked into Starla’s blue-gray eyes, set deep inside wrinkled lids.
Her aunt leaned closer. “Not many know about this,” she whispered as if someone outside the apartment door might hear. “There’s an old story about how a member of the Coon Hollow Coven, one who’s recently lost a loved one, is made the teller of the moonstone tale.”
Jancie rolled her eyes. “That’s just a silly story, one of lots that Mom and Dad told to scare me when I was little, so I’d stay away from the coven. When the moonstone locket opens at the end of the tale, you’ll get your wish but also be cursed.”
“Oh no.” Starla shook her head and pushed away from the table. “Let me get Aunt Maggie’s old diary. I got this in a box of old family things when Cousin Dorothy passed. ” She lumbered to her spare bedroom and returned with a worn, black-leather volume only a little larger than her wide palm. Once seated, she thumbed through the yellowed pages. “Here.” She pointed a finger and placed the book between them.



About the Author:

Marsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and paranormal romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales.

The magic of art and nature often spark life into her writing, as well as watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out for an hour or more is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand.

Every day at the beach is magical!

Website: http://MarshaAMoore.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage

Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore

Google +: http://google.com/+MarshaAMoore

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/marshaamoore/

Amazon author page: amazon.com/author/marshaamoore

Goodreads author page http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore



{Book Blitz} Witch’s Moonstone Locket by Marsha A. Moore

Witch’s Moonstone Locket
A Coon Hollow Coven Tale
Book One
Marsha A. Moore

Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance

Date of Publication: March 24, 2015

Word Count: 94,000

Book Description:

Twenty-three-year-old Jancie Sadler was out of the room when her mother died, and her heart still longs for their lost goodbye. Aching to ease her sorrow, Aunt Starla gives Jancie a diary that changes her entire life. In entries from the 1930s, her great grandmother revealed how she coped with her own painful loss by seeking out a witch from nearby Coon Hollow Coven. The witch wore the griever’s moonstone locket, which allowed whoever could unlock its enchantment to talk with the dead.

Determined to find that locket, Jancie goes to the coven’s annual carnival held in her small southern Indiana town of Bentbone. This opposes her father’s strict rule: stay away from witches. But she’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. She meets Rowe McCoy, the kind and handsome witch who wears the moonstone. He agrees to let her try to open the locket, but they’re opposed by High Priestess Adara and her jealous desire to possess him.

Desperate for closure with her mother, Jancie persists and cannot turn away from a perilous path filled with magic, romance, and danger.



Excerpt from Chapter One: Great Aunt Starla’s Cornbread

Warm rain mixed with Jancie’s tears, and she rose to stand beside her mother’s grave. Not ready to let go, she bent at the waist and her fingers followed the arc of her mother’s name—Faye Sadler—in the headstone. She knew the unyielding shape well. The word goodbye stuck in her throat. She’d said it aloud many times since her mother died almost a year ago, only to have the cemetery’s vast silence swallow her farewells. Rain beaded on the polished granite. Her hand, bearing her mother’s silver ring, slid down the stone and fell to her side.
If only she could’ve said goodbye to her mother before. After years of caring for her mom while she suffered with cancer, Jancie had missed the final parting moment while getting a quick bite of dinner. The pain still cut like a knife in her gut.
On foot, she retraced the too-familiar path toward her work at the Federal Bank. Although she’d landed a job as manager at the largest of the three banks in the small town of Bentbone, the position was a dead end. Within the first six months, she’d mastered all the necessary skills. Now, after a year, only the paycheck kept her there.
Jancie turned onto Maple Street. As usual, wind swept up the corridor, between old shade trees protecting houses, and met her at the top of the tall hill. September rain pelted her face and battled the Indian summer noontime temperatures. She zipped the rain parka to keep her dress dry, pulled on the strings of the hood, and corralled strands of ginger-colored hair that whipped into her eyes. Once able to see, she gazed farther into the valley, where the view spanned almost a mile out to the edge of town. Usually, farmers moved tractors across the road or boys raced skateboards and bikes down Maple Street’s long slope.
Today, on the deserted acreage just east of Bentbone, people moving in and out through a gate of the tall wooden fence breathed life into the rundown carnival. Surprised, Jancie crossed the street for a better view. She’d lost track of time since Mom passed. The coming Labor Day weekend in Bentbone meant the valley coven’s yearly carnival. She and her close group of girlfriends always looked forward to the cute guys, fair food, and amazing magical rides and decorations…even if her father didn’t approve of witches or magic. The residents of the sleepy town awoke to welcome a host of tourists wanting to see the spectacle created by the witches of Coon Hollow Coven.
Somehow, Jancie had forgotten the big event this year. Last year, she didn’t go since Mom was so sick and couldn’t be left. Jancie sighed and turned onto the main street toward the bank. She’d lost so much since her mother passed. Really, since the diagnosis of cancer.
At that time, four years ago, Jancie withdrew as a sophomore from Hanover College, a select, private school in southern Indiana near the Kentucky border—too far away. Instead, she returned to stay with her mother and commuted to Indiana University. Balancing hours with the home health care nurse, Jancie had few choices of career paths. Not that it mattered, since her remarried father expected her to find a job in Bentbone and continue taking care of her mother. Despite the sacrifices, Jancie loved her mother, who’d always managed money for a few special things for Jancie—a new bike, birthday parties, prom dresses—even though their income was tight. Mom had paid for her tuition and listened to every new and exciting college experience.
Jancie smiled at the memory of Mom’s twinkling brown eyes, that mirrored her own, when she asked about what happened during the day’s classes: if Jancie liked the professor; if she’d made new friends.
When she rounded the last corner, her thoughts returned to the work day. At the bleak, limestone bank building, reality hit. Jancie pulled against the heavy glass door, and a gust swept her inside. She peeled off the drenched jacket and hung it on the coat rack of her small, plain office. At her desk again, she took her position.
Through the afternoon’s doldrums, punctuated by only a handful of customers, her mind wandered to the carnival. She’d gone dozens of times before and loved it. But since Mom passed, nothing seemed fun anymore, like she couldn’t connect with herself and had forgotten how to have a good time. She organized a stack of notes, anything to put the concern out of her mind.
***
After work, Jancie drove her old blue Camry the five miles to the other end of town where she lived in her mother’s white frame house, the home where she grew up, now hers. Glad to own her own place, unlike her friends who rented, she’d made a few easy changes. In the living room, a new brown leather couch with a matching chair and ottoman. She replaced the bedroom furniture with a new oak suite for herself in what used to be her mother’s room. With pay saved from the bank, Jancie could remodel or build on, but she didn’t know what she wanted yet. Her great aunt Starla had told her to just wait and hold onto her money; she’d know soon enough.
Pouring rain soaked the hem of her dress as she darted between the garage shed and back stoop of the small ranch house.
Glad she’d chosen to get her run in this morning before work, she changed into cozy sweats, pulled the long part of her tapered hair into a ponytail, and headed for the kitchen.
Her phone alerted her of a text, and she read the message from her friend Rachelle, always the social director of their group: R we going to the carnival?
Jancie typed a response. I guess. R Lizbeth and Willow going?
Yep whole gang. What day?
Don’t know yet. Get back to u. Jancie worried she’d spoil their fun. Even though they’d all been her best friends since high school and would understand her moodiness, she didn’t want to ruin one of the best times of the year for them. Since Mom passed, they’d taken her out to movies and shopping in Bloomington, but this was different. Could it ever match up to the fun of all the times before? “I don’t know if I’m up to that,” she said into open door of the old Kenmore refrigerator while rummaging for leftovers of fried chicken and corn.
The meal satisfied and made her thankful she’d learned how to cook during those years with Mom. Not enough dishes to bother with the dishwasher, one of the modern upgrades to the original kitchen, Jancie washed the dishes by hand and then called Starla. When she answered, Jancie asked, “Can I come over tonight? There’s something I’m needing your opinion on.”
“Why sure, Jancie. C’mon over,” the eighty-five-year-old replied with her usual warm drawl. “Are you wantin’ dinner? I made me some soup beans with a big hambone just butchered from Bob’s hog. My neighbor Ellie came over and had some. She said they were the best she’s eaten.”
Jancie glanced at the soggy rain parka and opted for an umbrella instead. “No, I just ate. Be right over.” Keys and purse in hand, she hung up and darted for the shed.
Five minutes later, she turned onto the drive of the eldercare apartments and parked under the steel awning where Starla gave her a whole arm wave from her picture window. Jancie made her way to number twelve on the first floor.
The door opened, and Starla engulfed Jancie in a bear hug, pulling her into the pillow of a large, sagging bosom. Starla smelled of her signature scent—rosewater and liniment.
Jancie had loved her great aunt’s hugs as long as she could remember. Stress and worry melted away, and she hugged back. Her arm grazed Starla’s white curls along the collar of her blue knit top embroidered with white stars—her great aunt’s favorite emblem.
“It’s so good to see you. Come sit a spell, while I get us some iced tea.” Starla pulled away and gestured to the microsuede couch decorated with three crocheted afghans in a rainbow of colors. “I thought we were done with this hot weather, but not quite yet. That rain today’s been a gully washer but didn’t cool things off much.” The large-boned woman scuffed her pink-house-slippered feet toward the kitchen. “Would you rather have pound cake from the IGA or homemade cornbread?”
Jancie laughed and followed her into the kitchen. She wouldn’t get through the visit without eating. “You’re just fishin’ for a compliment. You know your homemade cornbread is better.”
Starla arranged plates with thick slices of warm cornbread and big pats of butter on top, while Jancie transferred the refreshments to the aluminum dinette table.
“With your hair pulled back like that, you’re a dead ringer for your Ma. So pretty with that same sweetheart-shaped face.” Starla folded herself onto a chair beside Jancie. “You look to be getting on well…considering what all you’ve been through.”
“I’m doing okay,” Jancie said through a mouthful of the moist cornbread. She washed it down with a swallow of brisk tea that tasted fresh-brewed. “But sometimes, lots of times, I feel lost, like I can’t move on.” She ran a hand across her forehead. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. I spent time with her through all those years, and it shouldn’t matter, but it does every time I visit her grave and most every night in my dreams.”
“Oh, honey. I know it hurts.” Starla smoothed Jancie’s ponytail down the middle of her back and spoke with a voice so slow and warm, it felt like a handmade quilt wrapping around her. “You spent all that time and gave so much. Just like when I cared for my husband some twenty years back. I know. I never got the chance to tell Harry goodbye either. Time will heal all hurts.”
Jancie looked down at the marbleized tabletop to hide her teary eyes. “I don’t think I’m ever going to heal, Aunt Starla. I don’t know if I can ever move on.”
“There is one thing you can try. I’d have done it, if I’d have known before decades softened my aching heart. Way back, I was desperate like you.”
Jancie looked into Starla’s blue-gray eyes, set deep inside wrinkled lids.
Her aunt leaned closer. “Not many know about this,” she whispered as if someone outside the apartment door might hear. “There’s an old story about how a member of the Coon Hollow Coven, one who’s recently lost a loved one, is made the teller of the moonstone tale.”
Jancie rolled her eyes. “That’s just a silly story, one of lots that Mom and Dad told to scare me when I was little, so I’d stay away from the coven. When the moonstone locket opens at the end of the tale, you’ll get your wish but also be cursed.”
“Oh no.” Starla shook her head and pushed away from the table. “Let me get Aunt Maggie’s old diary. I got this in a box of old family things when Cousin Dorothy passed. ” She lumbered to her spare bedroom and returned with a worn, black-leather volume only a little larger than her wide palm. Once seated, she thumbed through the yellowed pages. “Here.” She pointed a finger and placed the book between them.



About the Author:

Marsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and
paranormal romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales.

The magic of art and nature often spark life into her writing, as well as watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out for an hour or more is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand.

Every day at the beach is magical!

Website: http://MarshaAMoore.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage

Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore

Google +: http://google.com/+MarshaAMoore

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/marshaamoore/

Amazon author page: amazon.com/author/marshaamoore

Goodreads author page http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore

Monday, March 23, 2015

{Book Review} The Haunting of Sunshine Girl: Book One by Paige McKenzie, Alyssa B. Sheinmel

The Haunting of Sunshine Girl: Book One
by Paige McKenzie, Alyssa B. Sheinmel
Publisher: Weinstein Books
Release: March 24th 2015
Genre: Fiction-YA: Paranormal
How I got it: NetGalley

Based on the wildly popular YouTube channel, The Haunting of Sunshine Girl has been described as “ Gilmore Girls meets Paranormal Activity for the new media age.” YA fans new and old will learn the secrets behind Sunshine—the adorkable girl living in a haunted house—a story that is much bigger, and runs much deeper, than even the most devoted viewer can imagine…

Review: I was highly disappointed with this book. I really liked the haunting portion. I was interesting and basic, haunted house. I thought that was well done and scary enough for the reader base.
I didn't like the fact that Sunshine is some sort of weird not human race. That just ruined the book for me.
I liked Sunshine as a character, she was a little whiny but pulled it out in the end. The love interest worked very well and they had good chemistry. The plot was fairly predictable, but worked.
Over all it could have been better, in my opinion, but fell back on predictable and cliche plot twist.


Wednesday, March 18, 2015

{Spotlight} Darkness Within (The Darkness Series Book One) by Candis Vargo


Darkness Within
The Darkness Series
Book One
Candis Vargo

Genre: Paranormal Thriller

Publisher: Limitless Publishing

Date of Publication: March 10

Book Description:

Tragedy strikes the Roseburg family and leaves Mike struggling to help his wife, Mia. After losing their only child in an accident, Mia is far from emotionally distraught…instead, she continues on like their son is still alive.

Four months passed since the accident…

Mike begins to work with a psychiatrist to help his wife with her delusions when a darkness begins to haunt them. As this dark presence becomes violent, making itself known, Mike wonders if the illusion of their child that his wife is seeing is something far more demonic.

With the dark force looming over them, Mike is left questioning his own sanity as he tries to unravel what is real and what is not.

Soon he realizes…

Something is dreadfully wrong.


About the Author:

Growing up on an old dirty road in the middle of nowhere, as a child Candis used her love for books as a way to escape reality (and her brother constantly trying to kill her—literally). She blames her love of all things Horror on being born on Friday the 13th and will always find joy in scaring her friends.

You will find a little piece of her in every book she writes. She loves a good happy ending, but most of the time she prefers one she never saw coming.

When she’s not writing or reading, she can usually be found chasing her children around. She currently lives in Rome, Pennsylvania with her husband and three children. And her fat cat.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/CandisVargo

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/candis.vargo

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5625334.Candis_Vargo

Chapter 1


The force of the impact with the truck thrust the Jeep forward, throwing Mia deep into her seat as they went nose first into a ditch. What was left of the back of the jeep rolled up over the front. It continued to flip over several times before seeming to levitate in the air after rolling off the embankment. It felt like an eternity, the world moving in slow motion, before it smashed against the icy cold river sending shards of glass and ice throughout the vehicle. As it slowly began to sink Mia automatically reached down to unbuckle herself. After struggling to free herself from the seat belt she reached back for her son.
Her long, dark hair floated through the thickness of the icy water and streams of blood swam around her face. As she turned around everything became hazy and the darkness fought to take away her control. A panic began to set in as her heart raced. She needed to get back to Eli, to unbuckle him…she needed to save her son.
Being a mother she couldn’t care less if she was hurt, she just needed to save her son. Like a tiger protecting her young, it was a mother’s first priority.
As she tried to move into the back seat she reached out to Eli again.
He gently placed his outstretched hand into hers. His eyes, so soft and gentle, stared into his mother’s, whose were full of pain and fear for him. He smiled his sweet innocent smile as if telling her that things were going to be okay.
It was the end of February, a time the weather was supposed to be warming up as it was readying for spring. Supposed to…but of course it wasn’t.
Mia had been trying to avoid what happened. Just moments ago she was talking to her husband on the phone through the Bluetooth she managed to con him into installing, stating that she was going to wait for the storm to pass.
“Hello,” Mikes groggy voice had echoed through the car.
“Hi, Daddy.” Eli’s enthusiasm rang throughout the vehicle. “Dad…Dad, I’m out of school, Dad. And it’s snowing!”
“Oh yeah, buddy,” Mike replied. “Well, I guess I will see you soon then.”
Mia had angled her rear view mirror down to look back at Eli. She placed her index finger in front of her mouth to shush him but smiled underneath it.
Eli puckered his lips out and grabbed them with one hand to keep himself from talking as he gave her a thumbs up.
“Yeah, it’s snowing like crazy.” Mia took her time as she drove. She was never a fan of the winter weather and only liked snow on Christmas Eve and
Christmas Day, any time before or after that she’d prefer it be seventy degrees and sunny. “We’re going to be late for dinner. I think I’m going to pull over when I can manage to even see anything so I don’t slide into a damn ditch.”
When Mia left to pick Eli up from preschool there were just a few flurries floating in the icy wind. Now it had come to near white out conditions, causing her to curse winter even more.
“All right, just take your time and watch out for the crazy people out there. And I came up with an awesome idea for big man’s birthday party. Turning the big five soon, eh, buddy.”
Mia looked in the mirror and saw Eli’s deep brown eyes light up. He hopped up and down in his booster seat with excitement. “Do I get a guitar,
Dad? Daddy, I want a guitar!”
“You’ll have to wait and see, buddy, but I better let you guys go so you can get home. Maybe this snow will be good enough to take you snowmobiling later.”
Mia rolled her eyes and shook her head in frustration. “See you when we get home.”
She was still upset with him over what had happened the night before. She could swear that sometimes it seemed like he’d rather be anywhere but where the man of the house should be at night…home. Gender roles were never really her thing, but to her it always seemed like the man did a better job of protecting the family from intruders.
“Stay safe,” Mike said before he hung up.
After Mike hung up Mia had slowed down even more, trying to find a place to pull over before she got anywhere near the upcoming bridge that crossed the river. She wanted to be out of the way of any oncoming traffic but with the snow falling as hard as it was, it was nearly impossible to see anything.
After a few more minutes of driving the snow let up ever so slightly, enough for her to spot a place where she could pull over. Slowing down to a near stop, she started to turn the wheel.
The distinctive sound of a big rig's horn snapped her attention to the rear view mirror, still angled for her to see Eli. She snapped her head to the right side mirror and saw a tractor trailer turned sideways, sliding towards her. Her heart raced as she pushed the gas pedal, trying to get out of the way as fast as she could. The wheels seemed to turn in pace and the air horn blared again, but was drowned out by the screeching of metal as it collided.
Everything went black.


Tuesday, March 17, 2015

{Spotlight} Fake Boobs by Ryan Ringbloom


New Adult
Date Published: February 2015


Tori Albert is eighteen. Her confidence level is zero. A girl lost in the shuffle, hiding in the shadows craving attention, but no one ever seems to notice her. If only someone, anyone, would notice her, she’d be happy.


Grant Donavan is Tori’s older brother’s best friend. Suddenly he can’t stop noticing Tori, but that is not a good thing. She’s young, inexperienced and na├»ve. The best thing he could do is walk away. So why the hell is he not walking away?

Tori’s small boost of confidence gets torn down and she makes changes to build it back up. But maybe her new confidence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Unfortunately some things you just have to learn the hard way.

*Contains Mature Content



About the author:
Ryan Ringbloom is a YA/NA author who lives for anything Romance. The passion, love, angst, awkwardness… she loves all of it. When Ryan needs a break from reality she sneaks off to read a romantic story or write one of her own. Drinking coffee, reading Tweets and hugs from her six year old are the best part of her day.

You can follow her on Twitter: @RyanRingbloom or visit her website at www.RyanRingbloom.com . Feel free to contact her, she would love it!

Buy Links

Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Fake-Boobs-Ryan-Ringbloom-ebook/dp/B00T8AAI1Y/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1424664587&sr=8-3&keywords=ryan+ringbloom

Prologue:
Grant

“Look around the bar, Grant. Give us an idea of what your type is. We’ll help hook you up with the perfect girl.” My sister’s friend, Gabby, tossed a pretzel into her mouth, and chewed while talking.
I scanned a few of the girls seated closest to us. Fair skin, red hair, casually sipping a beer and chatting with her friends. She was pretty, but not for me. Moving along. Dark hair, exotic, confident, drinking a Martini. Her eyes connected with mine and she rolled them uninterestedly. Not a problem, the feeling was mutual. Next. Ponytail and glasses picking at the label on her bottle of beer. Cute, but once again, I wasn’t interested.
“Doesn’t look like you see anyone,” Gabby said, exchanging glances with my sister, Julie.
I gave another glance around the room at the pretty faces surrounding us, but still no one held my attention. All of the girls were attractive. Just none of them seemed to do it for me.
Not like her.
The dull ache forming in my chest stopped me from going down that road again.
Crowds and drinking were never my scene. I was eager to leave even though we hadn’t been there very long. No matter what part of Jersey you were in, the bars were always mobbed. I’d almost forgotten how crowded it could get; it’d been so long since I was home. Not that Jersey was my home anymore. We paid the tab and the three stools we vacated were immediately snatched up in the packed bar.
As we made our way through the hoard of people, my eyes fell on a girl with the most unnatural looking blonde hair I’d ever seen. Platinum locks so light her hair actually bordered on white and eyes an odd shade of blue that just didn’t look right. Even in the poor lighting of the bar, I could see her make-up was piled on thick. Her jeans were tight and her blouse was low cut. The heels on her boots were high and her boobs were…ginormous. Way too large for her small frame. She stood in a circle of laughing girls, but there was something familiar about the sweet sound of her laugh that stood out.
After passing the group of girls, I turned my head to catch one last glimpse of the busty blonde before being tugged from the bar into the fresh night air.
What was it about that girl? Did I know her? What was on her wrist?
“No. Way!” Julie and Gabby both stated dramatically in unison.
“No way what?” I asked, turning to face them.
“There is no way in hell we would ever let you go for a girl like that.” Julie laughed, patting me on the back.
“Like what?” I questioned, lifting my brow.
Gabby shook her head giggling and Julie answered for both of them.
“A desperate girl with big, fake boobs.”


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Thursday, March 12, 2015

{Book Review} The Jefferson County Egan Murders: Nightmare on New Year's Eve 1964 by Dave Shampine, Daniel Boyer

The Jefferson County Egan Murders: Nightmare on New Year's Eve 1964
by Dave Shampine, Daniel Boyer
Publisher: History Press
Release:October 14th 2014
Genre: Non-Fiction- Adult: True Crime
How I got it: Received a copy from publisher

The names Peter, Barbara Ann and Gerald Egan were familiar to Watertown police before December 31, 1964. The police suspected the trio in a long string of burglaries, and they were under investigation by the FBI for grand theft auto. But on that New Year's night, the Egans were shot execution style at a rest stop off Interstate 81. The gruesome gangland-style killings puzzled local and state police. Theories ranged from a simple confrontation gone awry to a premeditated act of retribution by hardened criminals who feared the Egans would turn state's witness. With interviews from key witnesses, authors Dave Shampine and Daniel Boyer recount the grisly story of this New Year's Eve North Country nightmare, which is still shrouded in mystery today.

Review: I enjoy true crime, and learning about a case so close to home was very interesting. I've lived in the Watertown area all my life and had never heard of this case.
Peter, Barbara Ann and Gerald Egan were found dead in their car off Interstate 81. The case puzzled law enforcement and was never really solved.
While reading this I had family and co-workers coming up saying I remember that. Apparently my in-laws had family who were involved in the case. My father-law's father worked on the case as a state trooper and apparently my mother-in-laws family knew something as well. Barbara Ann was from the same area as my mother's family and went to the school next to the one my mother and her siblings went to.
Living and knowing the area this took place in made the book even more irresistible for me.
I found this to be an engaging and interesting read. Not only did I think it was well researched, I thought it did a great job outlining and describing the case. Even though this was true crime I found myself wondering who did it, why and reading to figure it out. I did feel the author added his own opinion heavily to the book. Yet it was wonderfully written and enjoyable to read about a historic moment in Jefferson County history that I hadn't known about.


Tuesday, March 10, 2015

{Book Review} Southern Spirits (Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries #1) by Angie Fox

Southern Spirits (Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries #1)
by Angie Fox
Publisher:Angie Fox
Release:January 21st 2015
Genre:Fiction- Adult:Paranormal Mystery with a hint of romance
How I got it: NetGalley

When out of work graphic designer Verity Long accidentally traps a ghost on her property, she’s saddled with more than a supernatural sidekick—she gains the ability see spirits. It leads to an offer she can’t refuse from the town’s bad boy, the brother of her ex and the last man she should ever partner with.

Ellis Wyatt is in possession of a stunning historic property haunted by some of Sugarland Tennessee’s finest former citizens. Only some of them are growing restless—and destructive. He hires Verity put an end to the disturbances. But soon Verity learns there’s more to the mysterious estate than floating specters, secret passageways, and hidden rooms.

There’s a modern day mystery afoot, one that hinges on a decades-old murder. Verity isn't above questioning the living, or the dead. But can she discover the truth before the killer finds her?

Review: I really enjoyed the humor and hijinks in this book.
Verity Long is forced to sell her home after her cheating ex-fiance sues her for the cost of a wedding that never happened. She accidently traps Frankie, a ghostly gangster, on her property. When her ghost hunting/ treasure finding adventure doesn't go as planned she's forced to take a job ghost hunting, from Ellis Wyatt. Not only is he the town cop, he's her ex's brother.
I found Verity to be a great main character, spunky, sassy and even has a pet skunk. Ellis and Variety have some great chemistry, even though you wouldn't think so given their history. The plot moved along really well and even though I figured out who dunit before the end, it kept me reading.
I enjoyed all the aspects of this book and look forward to the rest of the series.