Look Over Your Shoulder by Sharon Overend - Book Blitz and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sharon Overend will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A haunting, lyrical exploration of family, silence and the secrets we inherit.

Years of avoidance and blame have left the McLaughlin clan fractured and ill-equipped to face the critical illness of one of their own. When long buried memories of a neighborhood child’s death while in their care resurface the family truly begin to unravel.

Told in alternating voices, Look Over Your Shoulder, reveals how secrets ripple through generations, and how healing begins when someone finally dares to speak the truth.

Read an Excerpt

ANNE

I slipped away. In slow motion, I raised one foot after the other, one step at a time, upstairs. My limbs now disconnected from my body, my head bobbing in a black fog, I drifted across the hall and toward my bedroom. I lay on top of the covers but dragged a throw over my hip.

The buzz of distant conversations crawled into the room, and my window shook each time the front door opened or closed. Knuckles rapped, an empty hanger slapped against the door panel, the buzz amplified, feet shuffled forward, a presence lingered, a hand touched my arm, a voice whispered.

“Mom.”

I said nothing until her feet shuffled back toward the door.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed into the pillow seconds before the hanger again rattled, and the hum of voices roared back into the room. I wasn’t sure whether I’d wanted her to hear me or not.

“For what?” She had heard.

“For resenting you.”

The weighty creak of floorboards, a car engine idling, a woman’s laughter, a child’s shriek, a toilet flush.

“You’re tired,” Marilyn said, now close enough to touch me. “Sleep.”

“You scare me,” I said, still telling the pillow, not her. “Your strength and your capacity for forgiveness are things I’ve never experienced before. But I have to know. Have you ever forgotten?” Shame had stalked me my whole life, a shadow dancing across my peripheral vision, now fully in view.

“We’ll talk in the morning.” She lifted the fringed edge of the blanket, pulled it over my shoulder, and tucked it beneath my chin. A blue spark of static electricity sprang between her fingers and my face.

About the Author:

SHARON OVEREND, is an award-winning author whose fiction, creative non-fiction and poetry has appeared in the Canadian, American and British literary journals and anthologies including Antigonish Review, Avalon, Descant, Grain, Matter of Time, Spirit of the Hills, Surfacing, Wild Words, Word Weaver, UK’s Dream Catcher, CafeLit, The Best of CafeLit and A Coup of Owls.

Sharon and her husband live on a 156- rural acre property in Ontario, Canada where she has found inspiration for many of her projects.

Website: http://www.sharonoverend.blog

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/sharonoverend

Instagram: http://www.Instagram.com/sharonoverend3971

Bluesky: http://www.Sharonoverend77.bsky.social

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/LOOK-OVER-SHOULDER-Sharon-Overend-ebook/dp/B0FR2P6SWY/ref=sr_1_1

Blood in the Shadows by Hawk MacKinney - Book Blast and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Hawk MacKinney will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

When marine buddy, Gulfport, Mississippi Sheriff asks Craige Ingram for help, Ingram and Buckingham Parish patrolman ‘Badger’ Thomas Boback find themselves in the summertime dogdays of the humid Gulf Coast. With crowded beaches and an undermanned staff, a routine investigation soon becomes anything but routine when indescribable body parts start showing up along the surf, in beachfront cabins, half-buried in bayou wetlands, stashed under freeway bridges, and across county lines. Craige’s search for answers to identifying victims and killer among the crowds of tourists and skin-and-sun partygoers soon makes it obvious the victims have no connection with one another—until conflicting DNA results and haunting premonitions resembling the warnings Craige’s grannie often had become part of the investigation. The jigsaw of abandoned cross-kin offspring begin a horrifying Gordian Knot tangle that threatens anyone who approaches the shadowy ancient wreck of an old mansion - an asylum from a lost time.

Read an Excerpt

During the long haint-ridden nights the craving had become scalding, nearly uncontrollable. The green-yellow eyes withdrew into darker corners of windowless rooms, as flickers of Cajun Grandmère Nana’s weathered face swirled in the mist. Everybody around knew ageless Kreyòl Cajun Grandmère Nana. Some of them truly were believers. They knew what they had seen with their own eyes, and no one was going to convince them otherwise. They’d call to her by her dead half-sister’s spook-name, Momby Bocor. In the shadows of full-moon nights, they’d mumble in a breathless cadence, “Momby Bocor. Momby Bocor. Momby Bocor,” that became more chant than phantom witch-worker. Nana’s soft Acadia dialect in her New Orleans patois gave a pleasing lilt to the dapples of moonlight, her outline sauntering the back yard beneath the sprawling sheen of the swamp magnolia’s thick leaves. Not a hair was out of place in the golden red crown circled atop her head. Her frayed sweet gum twig swizzled back and forth in toothless twitches. Time-wrinkled eyes looked, mesmerized, toward the full silvery orb. She could almost see ancient Luna rising out of the gentle watery laps of the Gulf, reflected in the ripples and washing the sandy beaches. Nana often warned her gran’chil’ Ramona about the waxing madness that came from the blinding dazzle of the full moon. Lots of folks shrugged her off as a tiddly old crone passing her unnumbered days and nights inside her own world. Yet Nana’s houseplants never got frost burned, and her early flower beds and vegetable gardens were never planted before the last freeze. Ramona didn’t shrug off her Gran’mere Nana who was sharpened by the clean brisk air spilling among the haints and steamy haunts of bayous that would stay warm until spring. Then would come the days of warm Gulf air piling into big dark thunderheads, and the offshore waters would froth into elegant capped grey plumes. He could hardly wait. Sharp mangled grubby teeth chewed the lower lip pulling it raw. Blood oozed. The wet tongue did a quick taste, fed the perpetual lust. The craving hunger was always there. With the cloudy moon it would make for a cozy night to roam so long as Richard didn’t find out. It would make for good hunting.

About the Author:

Hawk MacKinney has authored several award-winning works of fiction that include THE MOCCASIN HOLLOW MYSTERY SERIES and THE CAIRNS OF SAINCTUARIE SCIENCE FICTION SERIES. His historical romance MOCCASIN TRACE was nominated for the prestigious Michael Shaara Award for Excellence in Civil War Fiction and the Writers Notes Book Award.

Cross-genre character-driven plots reflect Hawk MacKinney’s southwest upbringing along the Texas and Oklahoma borders. With postgraduate faculty positions in several medical universities, Hawk MacKinney has taught graduate courses in both the United States and Jerusalem.

Website: http://www.hawkmackinneyauthor.com

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Shadows-Hawk-MacKinney/dp/B0FG47PDSV/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Ever Since the Ball by Kate Ellington - Book Tour and Giveaway

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Kate Ellington will be awarding a $20 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Miranda Harlake's only chance to escape the detestable match her parents are arranging is a sham betrothal to her best friend, Peter, who proposes solely to save her from a loveless marriage. She gratefully accepts, though both know they'll never wed.

Piqued by her parents' scheming, Miranda secretly attends a masked ball and dances with a fascinating stranger all night. Upon discovering her partner was the insufferable George Rockford, she tries to forget the romantic evening they shared.

George, lonely despite his popularity and roguish ways, is intrigued by Miranda but she's apparently immune to his charms.

Miranda must listen to her heart and find courage to be honest with everyone—especially herself—if for once she's going to fulfill her own dreams.

Read an Excerpt

As Miranda approached the drawing room she heard men’s voices, and neither of them was her father’s. She guessed Mr. Tolwood had stopped by and brought someone with him, but when she strode into the room she nearly gasped aloud.

George and Ebenezer Rockford stood chatting with her parents, glasses of sherry in their hands. So this was why her mother had insisted she change. Nobody looked Miranda’s way when she entered the room and she wanted to tiptoe out and send Cassandra down with a message that she was ill. Very ill. She sighed. It would never work. Mentally preparing herself for an atrocious evening, she walked to her father’s side.

“Ah, here she is at last!” Mr. Harlake said, taking her arm.

Miranda fixed a smile on her face as he steered her over to stand beside Ebenezer.

“You remember Mr. Rockford, don’t you, Miranda?” Mr. Harlake asked, eyes twinkling.

“Yes, of course. Good evening.” Miranda hadn’t seen him up close in a long time. He had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a short beard. She’d never been fond of beards.

Mr. Rockford took her hand and kissed it. “Good evening to you, Miss Harlake.”

She went to pull her hand away, but he showed no sign of relinquishing it.

“Call her Miranda. So much friendlier,” Mrs. Harlake said with a wide smile.

“Then she must call me Ebenezer.” He motioned to George. “You know my nephew, George? Why, you two must have gone to school together.”

Miranda was glad to remove her hand from Ebenezer’s grip as she turned to face George.

About the Author:

Kate Ellington grew up in a woodsy New England town where summer days at the lake seemed to last forever. She read her first historical romance at age eleven when a teacher challenged her to find a book in the library written by an author she’d never heard of. Thus began a life-long love of love stories.

After graduating from college with an art degree she settled in the Pacific Northwest, where she currently resides with her family.

Kate wrote her first romance when she was sixteen, then set her pen down for years until another story floated into her head out of the clear blue sky. She jotted it down, just for fun, but soon it took on a life of its own.

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/29720924.Kate_Ellington

https://bsky.app/profile/kateellington.bsky.social

https://www.kateellington.com/

https://www.facebook.com/kateellingtonauthor

a Rafflecopter giveaway