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Wednesday, July 29, 2026

Book Tour + #Giveaway: The Shores of Our Souls by Kathryn Brown Ramsperger @KathyRamsperger @RABTBookTours




Multicultural Family Saga / Fiction

Date Published: 4-21-2026

Publisher: Ground One Press



She’s a sheltered American. He’s a Middle Eastern diplomat. Can their love lead to lasting peace overseas?

New York City, 1981. Dianna leaves her small southern town for the bright lights and rich culture of the Big Apple and a prime job at the Met. Sparks fly when she crosses paths with a charming Lebanese diplomat. A shared night of passion launches her into an exciting romance and opens her eyes to a bloody conflict far from home. But as warring factions take hold overseas, she can’t shake the feeling that her new love is hiding dark secrets.

Qasim has never known peace. When he gets the chance to bring his country’s troubles before the United Nations, he abandons his family obligations to heal his war-torn homeland. But his true mission takes a detour when he falls for a beautiful American woman. Against the urging of his closest friend and mentor, he wants to share his heart and hopes with her.

In the face of cultural barriers and mounting war, can Dianna and Qasim find the strength to stand up for their love and a lasting peace?


Interview with Kathy Ramsperger

(aka Kathryn Brown Ramsperger)

Author of The Shores of Our Souls  


Could you tell us about any research trips you took for this story? Which places did you visit, and what made them essential to your writing?

My life experience was my research, so I used what it taught me to research my Bridge Between Shores series (THE SHORES OF OUR SOULS, A THOUSAND FLYING THINGS and BEFORE THERE WAS DISCO). I was a humanitarian reporter for decades for the International Red Cross and Red Crescent, covering Africa, the Middle East, and Europe. I spent a lot of time in feeding stations, displaced persons camps, and family tracing centers. I did take a trip specifically to Beirut to specifically research both of my novels in this series. I was glad to have many friends and colleagues there. I interviewed them all over delicious meals. It’s a lovely country, as I describe in my books, between the mountains and the Mediterranean. I was a Red Cross delegate in southern and eastern Africa, and I transformed some of the true stories I witnessed there for my second novel A Thousand Flying Things.

What's the strangest thing you've ever had to research online for your book?

I didn’t think any research topic was strange, but I did wonder if someone who read my search history would wonder why I was googling so much about war, the Middle East, and South(ern) Sudan. For a time, it was almost all I was searching for, other than parenting solutions and health cures (which I didn’t write much about).

I do have a research story about a place I knew nothing about before 1981, and that’s Molokai. I researched most of the photos (both published and unpublished) taken on that Hawaiian island while I was a National Geographic researcher. I’d love to go there some day to walk in the footsteps of Father Damien, who lived there with the last leper colonists on Earth in the late 1800s. After 11 years there, he died of leprosy himself.

In contrast, the cutest research I ever had to do was about Koko the Gorilla and her adopted kitten, Ball. I have a poster of them on my office wall now. Koko learned sign language and communicated with humans that way. She was trying to teach Ball to sign, too. It was an amazing story. Still is.

What research (history, mythology, science) goes into your world-building?

This was an easy world to re-create because I’d been to the places I wrote about. I mainly went back to memories and notes from interviews I’d done over the years. I read every book I could find on Lebanese history, conflict, and mythology, though. Here are a few tidbits, and I have photos of me in these places on my author website (let me know if you’d like a couple of them).

I like to visit or live in the places I write about. I need to spend enough time there to get to know the place and the people. My characters tend to be composites of real people I’ve met in my journey through life.

I also returned to old interviews, article edits, and notes–from museum visits and historical sites. My favorite historical site in Lebanon is Baalbek. What’s left there is mostly Roman ruins, but they were built over the Phoenician ruins, the sea traders who founded Lebanon. Lebanese cedars were thought to have built the Ark of the Covenant, and are mentioned often in the Bible.

I’m lucky to know a few librarians, including two at the Library of Congress. I read every book about Lebanon I could lay my hands on. I used old National Geographic articles (my former workplace) and interviewed a writer of one of them. You only “see” the conflicts if you simply watch the nightly news. It’s important to get to know a lot more because these countries are rich in history, culture, and in Lebanon, hospitality.

Yes, I do my research, but I prefer primary sources. I always return to real people in real time. What I witnessed. And then I make it an adventurous love story for my readers.

Have any of the people you've known, past or present, left a lasting impression on your writing journey? If so, we'd love to hear about a memorable experience that stands out to you.

So many. I studied creative writing at my university, and studied with some of the most amazing literary authors of that time: from Eudora Welty to Henry Taylor to Richard Adams to Greg Pape (Montana’s poet laureate) to RHW Dillard.

Most recently, I got the opportunity to chat with Adriana Trigiani, who shouted at me, “I know you!” She and I both love travel and grew up in SW Virginia, so that was incredibly special.

She signed my copy of The Good Left Undone (my favorite of all her novels) with, “you have the creativity, the gift, and drive. Never forget the power of One: YOU!”

She is prolific, gifted, and incredibly kind. Many authors would not have taken the time for that note. I told her, “from your lips to Heaven’s ears,” and she giggled like it was true.

Finally, the brave and courageous people I’ve met in my work have inspired nearly every story I write. I want readers to get to know them like I have, to walk and talk with them, to sit down and have a coffee or meal with them.

Do you write in the same genre all the time?

I sometimes think I need to write in the same genre to get more readership. I’m struggling with that right now. I write what I like to read. I started with adventure stories in grade school, read the social justice of Dickens, Eliot and Angelou in high school and university, and I enjoy romantic suspense like Daphne duMaurier wrote, and cozy mysteries like Agatha Christie penned. I don’t read much thriller or horror, but I adore fantasies with time travel.

All my fiction has been for women who love humanity and enjoy exploration and history, and that’s the universal umbrella and ideal reader for every piece of fiction I publish. There’s also a romantic element in my books, because I believe that unconditional love and open communication can conquer war.

If so, have you ever consider writing in another one?

All the time. I have other unpublished series that are not multicultural women’s fiction. They are more dark Victorian mystery and paranormal fantasy. I’m having a great time researching them, and strange things have happened with these series. They send chills up my spine. I so want others to read them.

Which character, supernatural or human, do you enjoy writing the most and why?

I’m not trying to be glib, but it really is the protagonist I’m writing about right now. I consider it teamwork, they come alive for me, and I inhabit my protagonist like an actor does the character they are portraying. They live beside me and guide every scene.

I love both protagonists in The Shores of Our Souls for different reasons. Qasim is a world-wise but sensitive man who has made it through war and done (mostly) right by his family. Dianna is strong, brave, and determined to succeed in spite of an ill mother and growing up isolated and in poverty. They are both free spirits, and together they make great partners. They are kindred spirits and also foils for each other. They are always ready for adventure.

In one of the two series I’m working on now, I sometimes think I’m channeling one of my protagonists in my early morning hours. He was a psychic detective and met an early death. And who’s to say I’m not? 

 

About the Author


KATHRYN BROWN RAMSPERGER is an award-winning author, editor, and creativity coach. A former National Geographic writer and researcher and humanitarian staff member for the International Red Cross, she has lived and worked in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East, regions that deeply inform her storytelling. The Shores of Our Souls is a Foreword Indies finalist and a finalist in the Faulkner-Wisdom Literary Competition. She’s a recipient of the Hollins University Fiction Award.

Having firsthand experience in the places she writes about, Kathryn brings a unique authenticity to her stories, blending rich cultural details with the universal themes of love, redemption, and peace. She studied creative writing at Hollins University, and publications management at George Washington University. She currently lives in Maryland with her husband. They have two adult children, off to their own world adventures, but still parent a feisty feline. Next on their bucket list: Croatia, Portugal, or Tanzania!


Contact Links

Website

Twitter

Goodreads

Instagram

Tiktok


Purchase Links

https://mybook.to/TheShoresofOurSouls

Amazon






RABT Book Tours & PR

Book Blitz + #Giveaway: STRINGS by Jan Merritt @RABTBookTours




Contemporary Fiction

Date Published: 11-23-2025


 

 A pandemic is spreading across the globe. A national lockdown looms in the United States. A Southern journalist sees a chance to protect her health and jumpstart her career by escaping north to a Minnesota wilderness. Feisty and wary of entanglement, she piques the interest of a bored Native American rock star on his way home.


Robby Song’s career may be on hold, but Grace Wheeler is on a mission to build hers. To Robby, she’s an intriguing challenge. To Grace, he’s a distraction she’s not ready to handle. But the brutal Northwoods winter is coming. Grace flees back south . . . to soul-searching isolation and a puzzling middle-of-the-night call.



Excerpt


PART I – THE NORTHWOODS
 
Chapter 1 – Airports


          Empty. No sounds except flight announcements and Covid precautions over the PA as Grace trekked alone through the wide, carpeted corridors, stepped onto the moving walkways, and passed the shuttered kiosks, shops, and restaurants of the Minneapolis airport. The few people she saw, behind counters or scurrying past at safe distances, wore surgical masks, except for one or two who had creative, last-minute coverings . . . red bandannas or black gaiters. The antiseptic smell of hand sanitizer hung in the air, penetrating her mask. If she closed her eyes, she could think she was in a hospital. Her hair probably reeked of the stuff. Of course, her gate was the last one. She shrugged her old, green backpack off and sank into a seat against the wall, leaning her head back and closing her eyes, hoping the flight was still happening. Except for her, the gate area was deserted. Maybe she could drift off.
But it was no good. She couldn’t sleep. She was tired, and the adrenaline had worn off, but she was growing anxious. Maybe she wasn’t as brave or capable as she’d thought. She sat up, pulled the tablet out of her backpack, and began rereading her notes from the last interview she’d done, the one with the middle school English teacher about online classes. She needed to get it written up and into her editor. She could not lose this job, her only income. A seat creaked nearby. She looked up. She hadn’t heard him walk up, but good sign, another passenger. A man was sitting with his head leaned back against the window, eyes closed, long legs stretched in front of him, a guitar case leaning against the next seat with a tan jacket thrown over it. Before long, he sat up, glanced at her over his black mask with tiny gold stars, rose, and walked to the bank of windows at the end of the concourse. He stood there, looking out, a tall, thin man all in black, with a long braid. Quite the silhouette. She looked back at her notes.
“Cozy, huh? A whole airport and just the two of us.”
She jumped. The voice was unexpected . . . and hoarse. He was six feet in front of her. She stared up at him. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Well, I try to look for the positive.” He paused and cleared his throat but didn’t turn away. “I’m going in search of coffee. If you’ll keep an eye on my things, I’ll bring you some.”  
“I’ll watch them.”
He moved the guitar and jacket to a seat in her row, then straightening, looked at her. “You want coffee or not? You didn’t actually say.”
They studied each other then, the way people do when they’re wearing masks — all eyes. His were dark, almost black, under barely arched eyebrows. They looked at her steadily . . . with a touch of amusement? Hers were brown, with the beginning of a worry wrinkle between her brows. She looked back with a serious expression.
“Sure. Black, one sugar.” She leaned over to get her wallet and noticed her toenails. She had meant to cover the chips with a fresh coat of blue polish. Oh, well.
“I’ll get it.” He walked off.
A red packet was on the carpet below his jacket. She put her tablet down on the little table between her and the next seat, walked over, and picked it up. D’Addario Guitar Strings. She placed it on the worn suede jacket, under the sleeve but visible, and went back to her notes.
                                                                                ************
          “I stopped at a hand sanitizer.”
She nearly dropped her tablet this time. “You need a bell!”
“Sorry.” He was in a seat, reaching across his guitar to place her coffee on the little table. “One of my nicknames growing up was Sneak. But you seem a little edgy.”  
          “Maybe.” She noticed his long, slender fingers and wondered if that was good for playing guitar. Her mother’d always said it helped with playing the piano. She picked up the cup and went to remove one side of her mask, but the loop was tangled in her hair. She put the cup back down. Masks were proving to be a challenge. She’d given up trying to control her hair long ago, but masks weren’t optional. Her hair was dark red, dark enough it was hard to see the red unless she was in the sun. The kind of red hair that’s big and ends up in long twirls unless you comb or brush it which only makes it a bigger, frizzy mess. She tried to free first one side of her mask, then the other, finally getting one, then a sip of coffee. She looked his way. He was watching her. “I hadn’t realized how much I needed this. Thanks.”
“You have a lot of hair.” He turned away, removed his mask with one hand, took a sip, and turned his face toward her, pausing, then going on, “I knew how much I needed it.” Leaning forward, he put his forearms on his thighs and held the coffee between his knees. He was not unattractive, in an angular, ascetic kind of way — prominent cheekbones, straight nose, full lips, and the dark eyes.
He’d bought her coffee, so she figured she should try to be sociable. “Have you come a long way?”
“Not today. Just from my apartment. But I’ve been traveling. Got in late. You?”
“This is my third airport since five this morning.”
“Sounds like you’ve come a long way. Got somebody in Duluth?” He sipped.
“I wish. I have no idea what I’m doing next.”
He raised his eyebrows and looked over at the clock. “I’d say you have about an hour and a half to figure something out.” Just then, an agent walked up to the check-in desk. 
 “Do you think they’ll take us, if it’s only us?”
“I don’t know. Probably depends on whether they need to get a plane to Duluth, for commuters. I guess we’ll see. I’ve never had this flight cancel.”
“You’ve done this before?”
He nodded, swallowing a sip of coffee. “Every four . . . six months or so. I’ve got family all around Duluth . . . and this time, I’m staying . . . a while. I figure I’m safer up there than most anywhere.”
“Me, too.”
The PA system came on. “Good afternoon passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 2514 to Duluth. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you.” The agent looked in their direction and shrugged. “If you guys are ready, you can board.”
They gathered their belongings. He noticed the strings and looked over at her, but she was putting her tablet away. As she passed him, he said, “I’m Robby.”
She replied, “Oh . . . Grace.”
 

About the Author


 

 Jan Merritt lives on the coast of South Carolina with strong ties to northern Minnesota where her dad was born. Her early life was filled with rich, but conflicting narratives. On the one hand, her dad regaled her with pioneering stories from Minnesota: Merritt boys tramping through tamarack swamps and the Northwoods, learning from their Ojibwe neighbors; surviving -60° winters; and the saga of her great-grandfather leading them to discover iron ore on the Mesabi Range only to lose that mining fortune to John D. Rockefeller in a New York City courtroom. But on the other hand, Jan’s education in an elite private girls’ school in downtown Charleston, South Carolina, led her into a privileged, old South social set she wasn’t born into, one with a different set of values. These opposing values simmered in Jan’s head.


She grew up passionate about teaching, both in the classroom and on horses. She married and had a family. Life was good, but it came to a halt when she discovered by accident that she had brain cancer. She has survived, but after the surgeries and treatments, her brain is not the same. She can’t ride or teach school, but her new brain is busy. It creates conversations. One night toward the end of Covid, Jan gave up trying to sleep and decided to write down what the people were saying … maybe if she got the chatter out of her head, she could sleep. It didn’t work but she hasn’t stopped writing. Jan has a new passion.


 
Contact Links


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RABT Book Tours & PR

Teaser: Egyptian Lovers by Isabella Jordan @RABTBookTours @changelingpress



Dark Paranormal Romance

Date Published: July 31, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



In the desert sands of Egypt, three lovers battle a maniacal curse. Only their love can save them.

 

Half vampire, half sphinx, Kahma roams the deserts of Egypt, praying for death -- until his lost love returns, reincarnated as archeologist Emma Bonham. But to fulfill the passion Kahma offers, Emma must part with her life.

Fascinated by the tale of Emma Bonham’s disappearance some eighty years ago, Carson Bonham comes to Egypt to unravel the mystery. But the bloody carnage of Karnak’s history has a way of repeating itself. The struggle to keep Carson alive will be a death defying act for the powerful vampire Sopdet.

Alexis Peters has no intention of returning to Egypt, until a mysterious dream lover promises endless pleasure if she will just return to him. Little does Alexis know she’s bound to her Egyptian savior, the legendary sphinx, Amenhotep…

 

Publisher's Note: Egyptian Lovers Box Set contains the previously released novellas Kahma, Sopdet, and Ardeth & Amenhotep.



 

Excerpt from Kahma

Abydos, Egypt
November 1926

Emma Bonham moaned and writhed with Corey Dunham's head between her thighs and his strong hands holding her against his busy mouth. His tongue speared deep into her moist opening, thrusting like a cock and she moaned again, but more for his benefit than from the pleasure she couldn't focus on. Slurping, wet noises filled Emma's small tent as she played along, trying to relax into a good fuck.

She just couldn't.

Emma closed her eyes and sighed blissfully at what she hoped were believable intervals as Corey's tongue fucked her. It was so hard to focus. Her mind had been spinning since they'd finally reached Abydos that evening, the most sacred site in all of Egypt.

Abydos. Emma had spent much of her life longing to see the ancient necropolis and the famous tombs there. Tombs of ancient kings, temples of ancient gods.

Her hips left the ground as Corey's fingers played with her half-swollen clit. Corey did have nice hands and fingers and he knew just what to do with them. He'd been her lover for several months now. They'd met when he'd joined the expedition that her Aunt Elspeth coordinated back in London. Corey had been on a few expeditions to Egypt before, though his experience wasn't vast. He had more than enough experience in bed for Emma, who'd had no experiences before Corey. Emma had been as curious about sex as everything else, perpetual student that she was and Corey more than satisfied her curiosity on a number of carnal acts. She was attracted to him, trusted him.

Emma wasn't in love with Corey by any means. She liked him immensely. Corey was an attentive, considerate lover and Emma enjoyed their lovemaking.

Normally.

"You taste so damn good, Emma." Corey slid a finger into her pussy to replace his darting tongue. "I want you to come for me."

The heavy canvas of the tent rippled as the strong winds whipped around it in the desert beyond. It was just one more thing to break Emma's concentration. She began to wonder if a sandstorm was coming. Emma also wondered if she'd ever see a sandstorm. Emma could play along and fake it but she didn't want to do that to Corey. Sighing, Emma pulled herself up, surprising Corey enough that he pulled his fingers from her sheath. Before she could say anything, a desperate cry ripped open the tranquility of the night.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The frantic male cry had Corey, who was mostly dressed, on his feet and Emma scrambling to find her discarded robe. Pulling it on as fast as she could, Emma stayed right on Corey's heels as he sped out of the tent. Naked beneath the robe she held tightly to herself and with her hair flying wildly about her, Emma struggled to keep up with him as he raced toward the tent of Alan Burns, the expedition leader and her friend. The rest of their group had already gathered there.

Peering over the shoulder of Alice Henderson, one of the artists in their expedition, Emma spotted the group's writer kneeling over Alan's unmoving body in the sand. Frantically, Daniel Woods pressed his fingers to Alan's throat, searching for signs of life.

"He's dead," Daniel announced, his face stricken.

A bolt of shock and fear shot through Emma. Alan was dead? How could that be? Emma was as fond of the kind older gentleman as her Aunt Elspeth. If not for him, Emma's aunt would never have allowed her to go on the expedition. Her aunt's confidence in Alan Burns and his vast knowledge of Egypt and all its sites had won out in the end. That and the man's solemn promise to her aunt that he'd watch over Emma and keep her safe.

Tears stung the back of Emma's eyes. This is horrible.

Alice started to sob quietly in front of Emma while Corey pushed his way past the others and into the tent. Emma watched as Corey joined Daniel in searching the fallen man's body for any clues as to what had killed him. The wind ripped at Emma's robe and hair from where she stood just outside the tent as tears slid down her face. Holding her breath just like the others, she waited.

Corey's features turned hard and he pointed to the older man's ankle.

"What is it?" Emma called out to Corey.

Corey seemed not to hear her at first. He started searching the sand around him, his eyes round and filled with alarm.

"A snake bite." Corey's green eyes met Emma's. "It looks like an asp bite. What an asp is doing out here, I don't know. They usually stick to the shrubs and hillsides. They are not desert dwellers."

"Perhaps it got into Alan's bags in Cairo," Daniel suggested.

Corey nodded. "It's possible."

"Dear God in Heaven." Alice, with her stout little body, took a step back and bumped into Emma. "It could still be here."

All eyes flew to the ground, searching the sand in the dim light provided by the fires that burned inside the circle of their tents.

"Watch your step." Corey's voice took on a more authoritative tone as he met the eyes of each of the remaining members of the group in turn. "Be mindful of this. Check your blankets before you go to sleep and check your clothing before you put it on. Reach into your bags with caution."

Dashing out of the tent and to her side, Corey gently took Emma's arm. "I'll see you to your tent."

With Alan gone, Corey had to take charge now. Emma easily read the tension in the hard set of his face, felt it in the hand that lightly gripped her arm. Corey was older than her, but still young, only in his late twenties. He'd never led an expedition before. He'd told her that he'd never been to Abydos before either. All that considered, he still had more experience in exploring Egypt than anyone else in the group.

Corey gently turned her to face him when they reached her tent. With gentle fingers, he brushed at the tears on her face.

"I am sorry about Alan." Corey pulled her into his arms, holding her against his hard, warm body. "I wish I could stay here with you, but I can't. I, at least, want to know where you are and that you're safe. Emma, be careful and try to get some rest."

Emma was vaguely aware of his hands smoothing her hair, the warm kisses he dropped on her head. She didn't even care that he was holding her in such a familiar way in plain sight of the others. Surely, they had to know Corey was her lover by now.

Yet, so many emotions gripped her heart with a tightly closed fist. She'd just lost a dear friend. If that weren't bad enough, they'd also lost the one person in the expedition who'd been to Abydos before and knew how to get back. How to survive here...

What will become of us now?

Corey pulled back to gaze down into her face, his expression grave. "Go to your tent now, Emma. Try to rest."

Emma nodded, not envying Corey the position in which he now found himself. Now he was responsible for the remaining six expedition members: three artists, a writer, an organizer and Emma.

�"What will we do now?" Emma gently brushed a lock of his brown hair from his creased forehead.

"First we have to take care of Alan," Corey explained. "We'll talk about the rest in the morning."

Brushing her lips with the lightest of kisses, Corey turned and headed back to the dead man's tent. Emma watched him, her heart heavy in her chest.

An image of Alan Burns' gentle smile flashed in her mind. When he smiled he had always reminded her of her father who'd died when she was just a child. He had taken on the role of father figure to Emma as she'd gotten to know him over the years. She was going to miss Alan, and Aunt Elspeth would be devastated when she learned of his death.

Little chance she'd get any rest this night.

A strong wind blew Emma off balance before she could enter her tent, stinging her skin lightly with grains of sand. She stumbled but didn't fall as the air whistled around her body in the strangest way.

Being a native of London, Emma was used to cold winds that chilled a person to their bones and made them shiver for hours. This was something else entirely. This wind was hot and moved across her skin like a lover's hand, touching her. That was the only way to describe it. A warm rush of wind penetrated the thin fabric of her robe and blew between her thighs, causing her own intimate scent to rise up and fill the air around her. Emma gasped at the unexpected way her body responded as the wind moved all about her, the way her clit began to throb. Emma's nipples beaded hard and her skin tingled all over her body.

Then Emma heard a gentle voice on the wind as the air swirled around the sensitive flesh of her throat, blew through her hair. A deep male voice.

Senin.

As quickly as the wind had risen it was gone, leaving Emma standing there shaken and lost just outside of her tent. Had she just imagined that? Was her mind playing tricks on her in her grief?

Or had the wind really coveted her body like a lover?

Pulling the thin robe tightly about herself, Emma climbed into her tent and willed her limbs to stop shaking.

 

 

About the Author

Isabella Jordan is the alter ego of an otherwise stressed out web designer, programmer, and internet junkie. When she's not trying to perfect her own personal caffeine IV drip, she enjoys spending time with her family, doing volunteer work, and writing. She loves creating new stories of all kinds and chatting with readers and friends.

Isabella would love to hear from her readers!

 

Author Website

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today



RABT Book Tours & PR

Cover Reveal: Safe With Her by Amy McClung @AmythaMcclung @HotTreePromos

 


Title: Safe With Her
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Subgenre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: November 13, 2026
Cover Art Illustrator: Shoshin

Preorder Today!

Rule one: Never fall for your brother's best friend.

Rule two: If you do... maybe don't spend the next thirteen years comparing every other man to him.

Oops.

When Travis Campbell vanished from my life, he took my teenage crush with him.

Now he's back.

Unfortunately, he’s somehow transformed from goofy best friend into a ridiculously hot, tattooed bartender with a permanent scowl and the kind of smile that should honestly require a warning label.

So naturally my long-buried feelings make an immediate and spectacular comeback.

Because I make excellent life choices.

The problem?

Behind the sarcasm, muscles, and bartender swagger is a man carrying enough emotional baggage to qualify for excess luggage. Travis is convinced he’s too broken for love, too damaged for happy endings, and absolutely not worth the risk.

Clearly, someone has to prove him wrong.

Between disastrous family dinners, questionable dating advice, relentless teasing, late-night confessions, and enough chemistry to short-circuit common sense, I’m determined to show Travis he’s more than enough and always has been…

…even if falling for my brother’s best friend again might be the craziest idea I’ve ever had.

Safe With Her is a laugh-out-loud romantic comedy featuring:
  • Brother’s best friend
  • Second chance
  • Grumpy bartender × sunshine heroine
  • Found family
  • Protective hero
  • Slow-burn chemistry
  • Banter, chaos, and plenty of heart


 Now available for preorder! 




Amy McClung was born in Nashville, TN. She is the second oldest of four girls and occasionally suffers from middle-child syndrome. She met the love of her life online in August of 2004, on his birthday of all days, and married him in September 2005.

Currently they have no human children, only the room full of colorful robots that transform into vehicles and the large headed Pop Funkos who represent their favorite characters. Collecting movies, shot glasses, Pop Funkos, and dust bunnies are some of her favorite pastimes.

Amy began writing in September of 2011 and independently published her first YA novel, Cascades of Moonlight, Book one of the Parker Harris series the following May. Her first book was a means of therapy for her, enabling her to escape reality for a while during a difficult transition in her life.

Review Tour + #Giveaway: Sabbatical, Part One by LS Delorme @LexyShawDelorme @GoddessFish


SABBATICAL, PART ONE

by LS Delorme

GENRE: CrossGenre Short Story Collection



Blurb:


In these pages, you’ll find…



A tender love story between a ghoul and a human

A cosmetic possession

An immortal teen finding a love lost for lifetimes

The redemption of a trafficker

The dangers of getting everything we want

Blemishes that heal others

An incubus and an assassin in the breach between stories

The making of a siren

and more.



For readers of the Limerent Series, you will learn more about some characters you already know and love. For new readers, these short stories are an entry point into the Limerent world.


Purchase Sabbatical, Part One on Amazon




Excerpt:


From Beltane: Nocturnals


I feel really bad having you have to meet me here,” she said quickly. “It doesn’t seem very comfortable for you, and I don’t always feel comfortable talking around strangers.”

Your heart speaks plainly and beautifully, as always, but as much as I wish it were not the case, am I not also a stranger?”

No,” Liz said. It was true, he didn’t feel like a stranger. Even the first time she saw him, she had been shocked and surprised, but he had felt familiar.

Abi beamed, causing his mandibles to draw frighteningly close to his eyes.

Then would you like to accompany me somewhere else to continue our conversations, somewhere a bit more beautiful and poignant?”

I would love to, but there isn’t much around here, I don’t think. I mean, I don’t think Canary Wharf has much that’s particularly beautiful or poignant.”

Abi laughed. It didn’t strictly sound like a human laughing. In fact, it sounded like chuffing or a muffled bark, and yet it was charming.

I would never take a soul as important as yours into such a tawdry vessel of avarice. I have something much different in mind, if you don’t mind riding on my back. I will, of course, understand if that is too intimate for you. I am a ghoul, and I am sure my touch would be repulsive to you, and I am far too bold to suggest this, and yet …”

That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing repulsive about you at all. But can you hold me up? I mean, I’m completely physical.”

Your touch, physical as you are, will be all I need or will ever need to carry you anywhere you want to go, be it the Earth or the stars.”


My Review:

As someone who has read every book in the captivating Limerent series, I was thrilled to return to this universe and catch up with all of these amazing characters!

Sabbatical, Part One is a wonderful collection of short stories from L.S. Delorme. While each story can easily be read as a standalone, I still highly recommend reading the entire series to fully appreciate the depth of this world.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading The Year Alex Got Everything He Wanted For Christmas, and I absolutely loved how beautifully it ties back into the events of Caio (Book One). Getting to see these characters again and learning a bit more about their journey was an absolute treat, making this a new favorite in the series for me! Highly recommend!






About the Author:


Lexy Shaw Delorme (writing as LS Delorme) is the award-winning author of The Limerent Series, a genre-defying collection of emotionally charged novels that which includes Caio, Bright Midnights, Fanning Fireflies, Ghosting Academy and Limerence. In April, she will be releasing a complication of short stories entitled Sabbatical, Part One.

Her book Caio won a finalist spot in the International Book Awards for cross genre fiction. Bright Midnights was named a Publishers Weekly (BookLife) “Editors’ Choice Pick” and was a finalist Golden Wizard Award Competition in 2024. Fanning Fireflies won first place for paranormal fiction in the Firebird awards. With a background as a lawyer, pop musician, and science writer, Lexy brings intellectual depth and lyrical prose to every story she tells. She is a wanderer and storyteller at heart. Raised as a “military brat” by United States Navy Captain, she has lived on three continents, across four countries, nine states, and 21 cities. Now based in Paris, she lives with her charming French husband and two very cool sons. Lexy is an active member of the British Fantasy Society, the Science Fiction Writers Association, Romance Writers of America, the Horror Writers Association, IBPA, Society of Authors and ALLi.

She is currently working on the latest installment in the series.


Connect with LS Delorme





Giveaway:



$20 Amazon/BN GC





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