Book Blitz: A Killing Among Friends by Toni Morrow Wyatt @Toni1777 @XpressoReads @XpressoTours #XpressoBookTours #Giveaway

A Killing Among Friends by Toni Morrow Wyatt 

Published by: Limitless Publishing

Publication date: August 10th 2015 

Genres: Mystery, Thriller, Young Adult

SYNOPSIS:

Sennie Lacefield has always felt safe at her family’s peaceful mountain lodge . . .

The only break in her tranquil life was the death of her boyfriend Patrick Devon, which left her heartbroken and unable to understand Patrick’s sullen, withdrawn brother Lonnie. But when her best friend Reatha Alcoker disappears, her sense of security is shattered. With the help of Reatha’s boyfriend Milo Durham, she launches a search for her friend.

More girls disappear, and bodies begin turning up . . 

.

When one of the missing girls is found dead in a swamp with a symbol burned into her forehead, Sennie focuses on her growing list of suspects. She can’t count on help from the lazy, lecherous Sheriff Warford Cackley. She also has suspicions the sheriff’s son Rex and his nasty friend Ottis know more than they’re willing to share.

Someone is watching Sennie’s every move . . .

Refusing to believe Reatha is dead, Sennie and Milo continue their frantic search, and Sennie is plagued with threatening messages. When another girl’s body is discovered, she and Milo visit the site and find evidence that Reatha has also been there. Some aerial photographs might hold a vital clue . . . if they can find them in time.

As Sennie unravels a tangled web of secrets, arson, burglary, and murder, could it be that a desire to help Sennie has warped the mind of a murderer?

Goodreads ~ Amazon

EXCERPT:

Wild desperation raged through Sennie. She ran out of her bedroom, down the main lodge staircase, and out onto the porch. The sun shone on the horizon as it started to peek up over the eastern edge of the mountain, turning everything into a pale, yellow haze. 

 She bolted across the porch and down the stone steps. Her tears blinded her, and she missed the second step, landing hard on her knees and the palms of her hands. The shock brought her mind to a standstill, and the fear she had been running from caught up to her. She sat on the stone pavers and cried, not because of her bloody knees and palms, but because of the helpless lost urgency coursing through her.

“I should’ve gone with her. Why did I let her go alone? What was I thinking?”

Arlynn came down the steps, knelt, and cradled Sennie in her arms.

“It’s going to be okay. They’ll find her.”

“I’m scared. She said she would be right back. Please, Mama, what if something has happened to her? What if she’s missing like Sue?”

“Surely not,” Arlynn said. “You know, they found Lula safe and sound, and they’ll find Reatha and Sue, too. Don’t give up hope.”

“But Reatha isn’t like Lula Mae. She didn’t run off to Little Rock. She would never do something like that. She would’ve told me if she was unhappy and planning on doing something crazy.”

“Maybe she decided she needed some time alone to think. Miss Pearleen said she has been putting pressure on her to keep her grades up so she can qualify for a scholarship. Perhaps it got to be too much for her.” She wiped tears off Sennie’s cheeks and helped her to her feet.

“I’ve got to go look for her.”

“Wait for Daddy and Hazen. You can go with them. I don’t want you wandering off by yourself, do you hear? You can’t help Reatha by putting yourself in danger.”

AUTHOR BIO:

As a child, Toni Morrow Wyatt's family spent nearly every summer visiting relatives in a small, rural community in Arkansas. Finding magic in this place, it is the setting for many of her novels. Her love for southern fiction led to the writing of her upcoming novel, A Killing Among Friends, and also, Return to Rocky Gap. Her work has appeared in From the Depths Literary Journal and Belle Reve Literary Journal. She writes an eclectic blog titled, A Pinch of Me, on Tumblr. She was previously an independent bookseller, owning and operating Kindred Books for seven years.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads

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Book Blitz: The Thought Readers (Mind Dimensions #1) by Dima Zales @AuthorDimaZales @NereydaG1003 #YABOUNDBOOKTOURS #Giveaway

The Thought Readers

(Mind Dimensions #1)

by Dima Zales

Release Date: 3/5/14

Mozaika Publications

Summary from Goodreads:

A new series about mind readers from USA Today bestselling authors... 

Everyone thinks I'm a genius. 

Everyone is wrong. 

Sure, I finished Harvard at eighteen and now make crazy money at a hedge fund. But that's not because I'm unusually smart or hard-working. 

It's because I cheat. 

You see, I have a unique ability. I can go outside time into my own personal version of reality-the place I call "the Quiet"-where I can explore my surroundings while the rest of the world stands still. 

I thought I was the only one who could do this-until I met her. 

My name is Darren, and this is how I became entangled with all the Russians and learned that I'm a Reader.

Buy Links:

Amazon ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Kobo Books ~ iBooks

Check out the short story novelette prologue for the 

Mind Dimensions series, The Time Stopper, for FREE!

Excerpt:

Sometimes I think I’m crazy. I’m sitting at a casino table in Atlantic City, and everyone around me is motionless. I call this the Quiet, as though giving it a name makes it seem more real—as though giving it a name changes the fact that all the players around me are frozen like statues, and I’m walking among them, looking at the cards they’ve been dealt.

The problem with the theory of my being crazy is that when I ‘unfreeze’ the world, as I just have, the cards the players turn over are the same ones I just saw in the Quiet. If I were crazy, wouldn’t these cards be different? Unless I’m so far gone that I’m imagining the cards on the table, too.

But then I also win. If that’s a delusion—if the pile of chips on my side of the table is a delusion—then I might as well question everything. Maybe my name isn’t even Darren.

No. I can’t think that way. If I’m really that confused, I don’t want to snap out of it—because if I do, I’ll probably wake up in a mental hospital.

Besides, I love my life, crazy and all.

My shrink thinks the Quiet is an inventive way I describe the ‘inner workings of my genius.’ Now that sounds crazy to me. She also might want me, but that’s beside the point. Suffice it to say, she’s as far as it gets from my datable age range, which is currently right around twenty-four. Still young, still hot, but done with school and pretty much beyond the clubbing phase. I hate clubbing, almost as much as I hated studying. In any case, my shrink’s explanation doesn’t work, as it doesn’t account for the way I know things even a genius wouldn’t know—like the exact value and suit of the other players’ cards.

I watch as the dealer begins a new round. Besides me, there are three players at the table: Grandma, the Cowboy, and the Professional, as I call them. I feel that now-almost-imperceptible fear that accompanies the phasing. That’s what I call the process: phasing into the Quiet. Worrying about my sanity has always facilitated phasing; fear seems helpful in this process.

I phase in, and everything gets quiet. Hence the name for this state.

It’s eerie to me, even now. Outside the Quiet, this casino is very loud: drunk people talking, slot machines, ringing of wins, music—the only place louder is a club or a concert. And yet, right at this moment, I could probably hear a pin drop. It’s like I’ve gone deaf to the chaos that surrounds me.

Having so many frozen people around adds to the strangeness of it all. Here is a waitress stopped mid-step, carrying a tray with drinks. There is a woman about to pull a slot machine lever. At my own table, the dealer’s hand is raised, the last card he dealt hanging unnaturally in midair. I walk up to him from the side of the table and reach for it. It’s a king, meant for the Professional. Once I let the card go, it falls on the table rather than continuing to float as before—but I know full well that it will be back in the air, in the exact position it was when I grabbed it, when I phase out.

The Professional looks like someone who makes money playing poker, or at least the way I always imagined someone like that might look. Scruffy, shades on, a little sketchy-looking. He’s been doing an excellent job with the poker face—basically not twitching a single muscle throughout the game. His face is so expressionless that I wonder if he might’ve gotten Botox to help maintain such a stony countenance. His hand is on the table, protectively covering the cards dealt to him.

I move his limp hand away. It feels normal. Well, in a manner of speaking. The hand is sweaty and hairy, so moving it aside is unpleasant and is admittedly an abnormal thing to do. The normal part is that the hand is warm, rather than cold. When I was a kid, I expected people to feel cold in the Quiet, like stone statues.

With the Professional’s hand moved away, I pick up his cards. Combined with the king that was hanging in the air, he has a nice high pair. Good to know.

I walk over to Grandma. She’s already holding her cards, and she has fanned them nicely for me. I’m able to avoid touching her wrinkled, spotted hands. This is a relief, as I’ve recently become conflicted about touching people—or, more specifically, women—in the Quiet. If I had to, I would rationalize touching Grandma’s hand as harmless, or at least not creepy, but it’s better to avoid it if possible.

In any case, she has a low pair. I feel bad for her. She’s been losing a lot tonight. Her chips are dwindling. Her losses are due, at least partially, to the fact that she has a terrible poker face. Even before looking at her cards, I knew they wouldn’t be good because I could tell she was disappointed as soon as her hand was dealt. I also caught a gleeful gleam in her eyes a few rounds ago when she had a winning three of a kind.

This whole game of poker is, to a large degree, an exercise in reading people—something I really want to get better at. At my job, I’ve been told I’m great at reading people. I’m not, though; I’m just good at using the Quiet to make it seem like I am. I do want to learn how to read people for real, though. It would be nice to know what everyone is thinking.

What I don’t care that much about in this poker game is money. I do well enough financially to not have to depend on hitting it big gambling. I don’t care if I win or lose, though quintupling my money back at the blackjack table was fun. This whole trip has been more about going gambling because I finally can, being twenty-one and all. I was never into fake IDs, so this is an actual milestone for me.

Leaving Grandma alone, I move on to the next player—the Cowboy. I can’t resist taking off his straw hat and trying it on. I wonder if it’s possible for me to get lice this way. Since I’ve never been able to bring back any inanimate objects from the Quiet, nor otherwise affect the real world in any lasting way, I figure I won’t be able to get any living critters to come back with me either.

Dropping the hat, I look at his cards. He has a pair of aces—a better hand than the Professional. Maybe the Cowboy is a professional, too. He has a good poker face, as far as I can tell. It’ll be interesting to watch those two in this round.

Next, I walk up to the deck and look at the top cards, memorizing them. I’m not leaving anything to chance.

When my task in the Quiet is complete, I walk back to myself. Oh, yes, did I mention that I see myself sitting there, frozen like the rest of them? That’s the weirdest part. It’s like having an out-of-body experience.

Approaching my frozen self, I look at him. I usually avoid doing this, as it’s too unsettling. No amount of looking in the mirror—or seeing videos of yourself on YouTube—can prepare you for viewing your own three-dimensional body up close. It’s not something anyone is meant to experience. Well, aside from identical twins, I guess.

It’s hard to believe that this person is me. He looks more like some random guy. Well, maybe a bit better than that. I do find this guy interesting. He looks cool. He looks smart. I think women would probably consider him good-looking, though I know that’s not a modest thing to think.

It’s not like I’m an expert at gauging how attractive a guy is, but some things are common sense. I can tell when a dude is ugly, and this frozen me is not. I also know that generally, being good-looking requires a symmetrical face, and the statue of me has that. A strong jaw doesn’t hurt either. Check. Having broad shoulders is a positive, and being tall really helps. All covered. I have blue eyes—that seems to be a plus. Girls have told me they like my eyes, though right now, on the frozen me, the eyes look creepy. Glassy. They look like the eyes of a lifeless wax figure.

Realizing that I’m dwelling on this subject way too long, I shake my head. I can just picture my shrink analyzing this moment. Who would imagine admiring themselves like this as part of their mental illness? I can just picture her scribbling down Narcissist and underlining it for emphasis.

Enough. I need to leave the Quiet. Raising my hand, I touch my frozen self on the forehead, and I hear noise again as I phase out.

Everything is back to normal.

The card that I looked at a moment ago—the king that I left on the table—is in the air again, and from there it follows the trajectory it was always meant to, landing near the Professional’s hands. Grandma is still eyeing her fanned cards in disappointment, and the Cowboy has his hat on again, though I took it off him in the Quiet. Everything is exactly as it was.

On some level, my brain never ceases to be surprised at the discontinuity of the experience in the Quiet and outside it. As humans, we’re hardwired to question reality when such things happen. When I was trying to outwit my shrink early on in my therapy, I once read an entire psychology textbook during our session. She, of course, didn’t notice it, as I did it in the Quiet. The book talked about how babies as young as two months old are surprised if they see something out of the ordinary, like gravity appearing to work backwards. It’s no wonder my brain has trouble adapting. Until I was ten, the world behaved normally, but everything has been weird since then, to put it mildly.

Glancing down, I realize I’m holding three of a kind. Next time, I’ll look at my cards before phasing. If I have something this strong, I might take my chances and play fair.

The game unfolds predictably because I know everybody’s cards. At the end, Grandma gets up. She’s clearly lost enough money.

And that’s when I see the girl for the first time.

She’s hot. My friend Bert at work claims that I have a ‘type,’ but I reject that idea. I don’t like to think of myself as shallow or predictable. But I might actually be a bit of both, because this girl fits Bert’s description of my type to a T. And my reaction is extreme interest, to say the least.

Large blue eyes. Well-defined cheekbones on a slender face, with a hint of something exotic. Long, shapely legs, like those of a dancer. Dark wavy hair in a ponytail—a hairstyle that I like. And without bangs—even better. I hate bangs—not sure why girls do that to themselves. Though lack of bangs is not, strictly speaking, in Bert’s description of my type, it probably should be.

I continue staring at her as she joins my table. With her high heels and tight skirt, she’s overdressed for this place. Or maybe I’m underdressed in my jeans and t-shirt. Either way, I don’t care. I have to try to talk to her.

I debate phasing into the Quiet and approaching her, so I can do something creepy like stare at her up close, or maybe even snoop in her pockets. Anything to help me when I talk to her.

I decide against it, which is probably the first time that’s ever happened.

I know that my reasoning for breaking my usual habit is strange. If you can even call it reasoning. I picture the following chain of events: she agrees to date me, we go out for a while, we get serious, and because of the deep connection we have, I come clean about the Quiet. She learns I did something creepy and has a fit, then dumps me. It’s ridiculous to think this, of course, considering that we haven’t even spoken yet. Talk about jumping the gun. She might have an IQ below seventy, or the personality of a piece of wood. There can be twenty different reasons why I wouldn’t want to date her. And besides, it’s not all up to me. She might tell me to go fuck myself as soon as I try to talk to her.

Still, working at a hedge fund has taught me to hedge. As crazy as that reasoning is, I stick with my decision not to phase because I know it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. In keeping with this unusually chivalrous me, I also decide not to cheat at this round of poker.

As the cards are dealt again, I reflect on how good it feels to have done the honorable thing—even without anyone knowing. Maybe I should try to respect people’s privacy more often. Yeah, right. I have to be realistic. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I’d followed that advice. In fact, if I made a habit of respecting people’s privacy, I would lose my job within days—and with it, a lot of the comforts I’ve become accustomed to.

Copying the Professional’s move, I cover my cards with my hand as soon as I receive them. I’m about to sneak a peek at what I was dealt when something unusual happens.

The world goes quiet, just like it does when I phase in . . . but I did nothing this time.

And at that moment, I see her—the girl sitting across the table from me, the girl I was just thinking about. She’s standing next to me, pulling her hand away from mine. Or, strictly speaking, from my frozen self’s hand—as I’m standing a little to the side looking at her.

She’s also still sitting in front of me at the table, a frozen statue like all the others.

My mind goes into overdrive as my heartbeat jumps. I don’t even consider the possibility of that second girl being a twin sister or something like that. I know it’s her. She’s doing what I did just a few minutes ago. She’s walking in the Quiet. The world around us is frozen, but we are not.

A horrified look crosses her face as she realizes the same thing. Before I can react, she lunges across the table and touches her own forehead.

The world becomes normal again.

She stares at me from across the table, shocked, her eyes huge and her face pale. She rises to her feet. Without so much as a word, she turns and begins walking away, then breaks into a run a couple of seconds later.

Getting over my own shock, I get up and run after her. It’s not exactly smooth. If she notices a guy she doesn’t know running after her, dating will be the last thing on her mind. But I’m beyond that now. She’s the only person I’ve met who can do what I do. She’s proof that I’m not insane. She might have what I want most in the world.

She might have answers.

About the Author:

Dima Zales is a full-time science fiction and fantasy author residing in Palm Coast, Florida. Prior to becoming a writer, he worked in the software development industry in New York as both a programmer and an executive. From high-frequency trading software for big banks to mobile apps for popular magazines, Dima has done it all. In 2013, he left the software industry in order to concentrate on his writing career.

Dima holds a Master's degree in Computer Science from NYU and a dual undergraduate degree in Computer Science / Psychology from Brooklyn College. He also has a number of hobbies and interests, the most unusual of which might be professional-level mentalism. He simulates mind-reading on stage and close-up, and has done shows for corporations, wealthy individuals, and friends.

He is also into healthy eating and fitness, so he should live long enough to finish all the book projects he starts. In fact, he very much hopes to catch the technological advancements that might let him live forever (biologically or otherwise). Aside from that, he also enjoys learning about current and future technologies that might enhance our lives, including artificial intelligence, biofeedback, brain-to-computer interfaces, and brain-enhancing implants.

In addition to his own works, Dima has collaborated on a number of romance novels with his wife, Anna Zaires. The Krinar Chronicles, an erotic science fiction series, has been a bestseller in its categories and has been recognized by the likes of Marie Claire and Woman's Day. If you like erotic romance with a unique plot, please feel free to check it out, especially since the first book in the series (Close Liaisons) is available for free everywhere. Keep in mind, though, Dima Zales's books are going to be much more PG 13 . . . at least that's the plan for now.

Anna Zaires is the love of his life and a huge inspiration in every aspect of his writing. She definitely adds her magic touch to anything Dima creates, and the books would not be the same without her. Dima's fans are strongly encouraged to learn more about Anna and her work at http://www.annazaires.com/

Author Links:

   

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Review: Anger’s Children by K.D. Rose @KDRose1@GoddessFish #Giveaway

Anger’s Children

by K.D. Rose 

BLURB:

Strap on your seatbelt for this whirlwind of short stories that take you out of this world—literally!

-A goddess on a mission or a young adult growing up? In the paranormal world, who's to know?

-Covert Action is supposed to mean "secret" but in a world of regulation, just what is everyone going so far out of their way to hide? Sex is a dangerous game. More than anyone could have bet.

-What if life was as simple as a game of dice or poker? What if human's lived their lives unaware that they were pawns, played on a board by those who were just a little more than human? Would fate intervene? Would love mean anything? If you were a God among humans, wouldn't you be just maybe, slightly, bored?

Life ending games? Or are they just the beginning? Dangerous. Risqué. A catch. There's always a catch. Three tales that will blow your mind.

EXCERPT:

From Under The Shadow of Wings

She had come to collect. All the places she had been before. All the places she had died. They had died. She could hear them all now. All her dead relatives. She came back to collect what was hers. What was theirs. She came back to kick some ass. She had already won. She had just come back to collect.

Playing the fate cards so fast, she caused pieces of past and future to fly by, appearing and disappearing. The onlookers—family—in her head were dizzy and not quite sure where to step.

While all of this was going on in her head, she sat in the bar of an airport, waiting for the red-eye. Her drink was Chardonnay. Next to her was a man dressed to be noticed. She guessed that with slicked-back hair and a model’s face, he was probably doing his best to feign nonchalance. He has those big, brown eyes—the ones that look at you and implore. Or seduce. Which one is he? Inside she heard her dead relatives bickering. Is he going to be the one?

They each had food and were waiting for their tab.

He finally looked at her and spoke. "I hate being held hostage by bad waiters, don’t you?" He smiled, white teeth gleaming.

She looked him over. His ticket stuck out from his jacket pocket. He would be on the same plane as her.

"Unless they’re very bad," she said with a smirk.

His red face showed that he was unprepared for her forwardness, but instead of backing down, he struck. He seemed to have recovered his confidence. "There’s no time lonelier than the night, baby," he said, looking at her like fresh meat. She hadn't controlled her body well enough. She knew her pupils had dilated at him and bet he noticed it too. He was that kind of guy.

She could hear her dead relatives. My tongue is in your ear washing grime, endless grime, off our face and hands. And the insects crawl around for their share of dead skin flakes.

Kat smiled but paid the tab she had finally been given and got up. Walking over to the elevator, she hit the down button and didn’t look back. 

My Review:

I received a free copy of the book from the author for my honest opinion.

Anger’s Children has three short stories each with their own separate characters that each have their own roads to travel and with their own little twist that kept me flipping the pages on my Kindle so fast that I thought it was going to blow up. Each of the three stories in Anger’s Children did exactly like the cover said they would; all three will blow your mind. But in a good way mind you.

In the first story “Under the Shadow of Wings” Kat hears her dead relatives talking to her. When she meets a nice young man in an airport her dead relatives ask her if he is the one. They ask her that over and over. Kat is not sure but one thing is for sure she knows that she is attracted to him and wants him very badly.

In the second story “Eyes Only” this newspaper guy met with his contact who gave him a document with a lot of real secret stuff in it. After receiving it his life started changing like with people watching and following him. So he decides to take the paper to another guy who is in the news business. He wanted to get rid of the info real quick like and he really didn’t care how as long as he got rid of it and he never wanted to see or hear about it ever again.

The last story “The Dark Man” Stryder loved to play games but Cassandra hated playing games but she would play them sometimes when she wanted too. Stryder was Cassandra’s love, lust and loss. Cassandra and Stryder were soulmates through different times except when they became one.

As I said at the start Anger’s Children will blow your mind. It will grab a hold of you right from the very beginning and won’t let go until you have turned that last page. You won’t be able to turn the pages fast enough. If you want a little quickie, something that will blow your mind then Anger’s Children is the book for you. So go grab your copy today. 

AUTHOR BIO:

K.D. Rose is a poet and author who currently has published "Heavy Bags of Soul", "Inside Sorrow", “I AM”, “Erasing: Shadows”, "Anger's Children: Three Shorts That Will Blow Your Mind", "A Taste for Mystery: Two Novellas" and her new release, "The Brevity of Twit".

K.D.’s book, Inside Sorrow won the Readers Favorite 2013 international Silver Medal for Poetry. With fellow authors around the globe, KD was also a founding member of the e-magazine, INNOVATE.

K.D. has an eclectic mind and loves language, physics, philosophy, photography, design, art, writing, symbolism, semiotics, spirituality, and Dr. Who. KD Rose is an avid supporter of music, the arts, cutting edge science, technology, and creativity in all forms. K.D also has a chronic illness but doesn't let it get her down. K.D. considers herself a "Spoonie" on the lam.

LINKS TO KD ROSE BOOKS:

New Release: The Brevity of Twit.

Publisher Three Worlds Press

A Taste For Mystery: Two Novellas - Amazon

Erasing: Shadows - Amazon

Angers Children: Three Shorts That Will Blow Your Mind - Amazon

Inside Sorrow - Amazon

I AM (Poetry in Motion) - Amazon

Heavy Bags of Soul - Amazon

KD Rose's Social Media Links:

 Blog ~ Website ~ Twitter ~ Tumbler ~ Google+ ~ 

Facebook ~ LinkedIn ~ Goodreads ~ Networked Blogs

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