A Life Through Books

Monday, March 4, 2019

Virtual Book Tour: The Book of HOT: A Manifesto by Mrs. Hot @SMOKIN_MRS_HOT #womensexuality #selfhelp #nonfiction #erotica #giveaway
1:30 AM1 Comments

 photo unnamed_zps0keqqqfm.jpg
Women’s Sexuality; Self-Help; Lifestyle; Erotica
Date Published: Feb 14, 2019  Valentine’s Day
Publisher: Written Warrior Press

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png



"An entertaining and educational firsthand account of an older woman’s single sexual life."

Kirkus Reviews



Fabulous Goddesses: Mrs. Hot, here, inspiring, empowering and entertaining you to the vibrant vitality, sexuality, and joy you deserve on your own personal Mission: Possible. Sixty is the new forty — or even thirty! — as we simply refuse to hang up our running shoes or our sexual attractiveness. To the very, fabulous end! Part One In Hot Pursuit details my transformation and sets you on your path to an exuberant, sexy lifestyle. In Part Two, I share some of my erotic stories with you —True Confessions. You’ll meet my local MENagerie, as well as a few exotic foreign acquisitions: intriguing men of all ages. Why exist an existence when we can live a Life à la Hot?


About the Author

 photo unnamed 1_zps7lzts4a4.jpg
I’m a gorgeous Goddess who transformed from shot to hot! I found myself in my late fifties facing a future of loneliness, infirmity, and pain—single, in a job from hell, and battling emotional issues that left me unhealthy, unattractive, and in despair. The only men on my sofa were Ben and Jerry! With time goosing me with “it’s now or never,” I plunged into my makeover, a journey of emotional, physical and sexual healing; then, after decades away from it, the world of dating, with its mind-blowing contemporary dynamics. Fearless, edgy, and disruptive, I’m Sex and the City’s Samantha 2.0, now fully ripened—and that much more wise, joyous and juicy. We’re not getting older, we’re getting bolder; my quarter million Facebook followers agree. Catch my blog at http://www.mrshot.com.


Contact Links



Purchase Links



RABT Book Tours & PR
Reading Time:

Friday, March 1, 2019

Spring Break Sale: Zosma by @lostchildrenofA #scifi #sale #blitz @RABTBookTours
8:24 AM0 Comments

 photo unnamed_zps5i4c0rzp.jpg
Science Fiction
Date Published: November 1, 2018
Publisher: Mascot Books

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Zosma opens the series on Earth in 2052 A.D. as Allister Adams, a young superhuman, begins his search for the planet’s possible savior: Zosma Caster. Zosma is an intergalactic refugee and the vessel for an otherworldly energy source from the Andromeda Galaxy. The rogue organization C20 has been interested in Zosma’s power, but are its intentions entirely pure? Allister’s search for an alien becomes a search for truth as the walls, literally and figuratively, are closing in.




About the Author

 photo unnamed 1_zps6mwqgbux.jpg
Jason Michael Primrose has been creating alternate worlds and characters since childhood. For nearly ten years, he has used his unique storytelling gift to impact the entertainment, fashion, and tech consumer product industries. His experience spans brand strategy, creative direction, retail merchandising, and influencer/celebrity partnerships. 



Contact Links



Purchase Links


On Sale 20% Off for Spring Break HERE
Code: ZOSMA

RABT Book Tours & PR
Reading Time:
Pre-Order: The Case of Billy's Missing Gun @jeanne_harrell  @RABTBookTours #mystery #giveaway #excerpt
8:23 AM1 Comments


(Sherlock and Me series)

Cozy mystery
Date Published: March 2019

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Super sleuth Lucy James is hired to find the Colt pistol that may have belonged to Billy the Kid. Hampered by dishonest weapon experts, a pawnshop murder and unusual architecture at a downtown casino, her investigation is rocky at best. A massive snowstorm has blanketed Reno leaving Lucy to slog her way to interviews with uncooperative witnesses. Her father’s abrupt firing from his job as the host of a local children’s television show and the impending marriage between her best friend Cindy Floyd and her detective fiancé Skip Callahan grab chunks of Lucy’s fleeting attention. But she is determined to find the missing gun before the next snowstorm even though she on and off relationship with handsome professor Eric Schultz is off again. With sheer tenacity and a pair of thick snow boots, Lucy muscles through to the mystery’s resolution. It isn’t easy but the mystery and murder never are.


Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

My name is Lucy James. Life seems to revolve in cycles and I’ve been trying to decide if this is an up or down cycle at this moment in time.  
On the up side, I earned my private investigator license in Nevada last year and got a decent chunk of cash a couple of cases ago. On the down side, I shot through most of it renting my new office in downtown Reno and blowing the rest on a horse. No, it wasn’t a racehorse and I wasn’t betting in one of the casinos around here. I’d helped out a little boy in his hour of need.
That’s me. Lucy the do-gooder or so my best friend Cindy always tells me. Anyway, the boy’s dad was so grateful that he’s paying me back in installments. Problem is sometimes his installments don’t meet all my expenses and since another case hasn’t darkened my office lately, I’m still plugging away at the old movie theater by the Truckee River that winds its way through the city. It’s been my go-to job all through college and it appears it’s going to see me through a bulk of my adulthood too. 
It pays the rent.
Today I wandered down to a local television station, KNVP, to see my dad at work. Larry James has been the host of Uncle Ollie’s Playhouse, a hit local show for kids under ten since the beginning of my ill-fated college career. Not my cup of tea but he enjoys it. Dad’s tenacity to stick with the program is the one characteristic I’m pleased to have inherited from him. Jury’s out on the rest.
In through a back door, everyone nodded as I slipped by to stand at the edge of the playhouse set to see how Uncle Ollie was doing. Shelves with colorful toys, bouncy balls, a purple-leafed plant, a man in shining armor and bowls of fruit decorated the interior. Ollie was perched on a stool in the center of the activity singing a song about getting along with your neighbors. His singing partner was a puppet resembling some unidentified breed of dog. The droopy ears and bulbous nose should have been dead giveaways but weren’t. Not that it mattered. Several happy little kids hovered around the puppet clapping and singing along with a beaming Uncle Ollie. 
I watched in wonder at the man in bright red slacks and striped sweater. With his feet encased in fuzzy slippers and a shaggy blondish wig, Uncle Ollie, aka my dad, was a cross between a stylish Mr. Rogers and a 1950s Captain Kangaroo. But if memory served me, Dad should have been singing with a bunny rabbit if his emphasis that day was Captain Kangaroo.
I never asked him what daytime children’s show his was patterned after because I knew what he’d say. With wide eyes and a forlorn look etched on a comic face, Larry James would exclaim, “Lucy! How can you think I would ever stoop so low as to mimic one of those people?” He would draw out the word ‘those’ to two syllables laced with enough irony to make me want to starch a shirt. Ugh. Then I would get his standard lecture about being an original and if you couldn’t be original, why bother? 
But there weren’t as many children on the set as usual and the two cameramen stifled yawns. No director hovered creating the usual chaotic whirlwind and there was a slight chill in the atmosphere I’d never experienced before. Even Uncle Ollie’s typically bright eyes and smile seemed forced and I wondered what was up. I found out as soon as Ollie and his sidekick Pete the Dragon finished singing the theme song, signaling the end of the program and the children were herded off the set. Dad stormed after them heading right for the control booth on the second floor. Sensing trouble, I tagged along.
“Wait up, Dad. What’s the rush? Aren’t you going to take off your costume?”
He didn’t turn in his haste to acknowledge me as he ran up the stairs, but managed to spit out, “Not now, Lucy.”
Blowing through the door of the control room, he got right in the executive producer’s face. A large man with few strands of hair and fewer principles, Rance Morgan wasn’t more than forty but looked fifty, clogged the already stuffy air with cigar smoke and ordered his staff around like they were born to wait on him. He had only become executive producer this past year and he and Dad had clashed from day one. Today didn’t seem more promising than any other day.
“Morgan! What the hell is the idea?” Puffs of steam from Uncle Ollie’s ears seemed to wilt his shaggy wig.
Rance Morgan stood stiffly towering over Larry James with a look of defiance.
“What is it now, James? The lead arc light too bright again?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Morgan. Cut the crap!”
Morgan smirked, folded his arms across his broad chest. A button popped open when he inhaled.
“Yeah. Same old, same old. Pete got more camera than you did.” He shook his head so slowly that I nearly laughed out loud. The guy was as big a ham as my father.
“Pete did, the children did, the puppets all did. Even Leapin’ Lizard got great angles. Why I was barely in the program at all. Why don’t you make it ‘Uncle Ollie’s Playhouse Without Uncle Ollie’?”
Morgan’s smirk became a sneer. “Great idea, James. Pack up that crap costume you insist on wearing and don’t let the door hit you on the backside when you slink out!”
Dad’s jaw hit the floor. “What are you saying?”
“Just what you suggested: I’m firing you. Thanks for saying what I’ve been meaning to for the better part of this year.”
Dad raised himself to full height, put his fists on his hips and sneered right back. “How do you expect to have Uncle Ollie’s Playhouse without Uncle Ollie? That’s me, you idiot!”
“What?” He laughed. “Think I can’t get another guy to play your moronic character? In a heartbeat, pal.” Morgan stepped aside and headed toward me. “You and your stuck-up daughter can find your own way out.”
“Hey!” I protested. But he muscled by me tossing a shrug in my direction without giving either of us a second look. When I turned to my dad, a very indignant Uncle Ollie met my open-mouthed stare. His camera make-up looked about ready to drip off his tomato red face.
“Dad, you just got fired.”


About the Author

 photo unnamed 1_zps9z4xdvyr.jpg
SJ SLAGLE started her writing career as a language arts teacher. Her initial interest was children’s stories, but she moved on to western romance, mysteries, and historical fiction. She has published 24 novels, both independent and contract. SJ contributes regularly to guest blogs and has her own blog called anauthorsworld.com in which she discusses the research involved in the books she writes. SJ has established Twitter and Facebook fan bases, a quarterly author newsletter and a website under her pseudonym: JEANNE HARRELL at jeanneharrell.com.

Her first historical fiction novel, LONDON SPIES, was awarded a B.R.A.G. Medallion in 2018 and Slagle was a finalist in the 2017 UK Independent Book Awards. She was given the Silver Award with the International Independent Film Awards for her screenplay called REDEMPTION. SJ conducts writing/publishing symposiums in her local area. OSLO SPIES, her second historical fiction novel will be published in September. She lives and works in Reno, Nevada.

Contact Links

Pre-Order Links

Reading Time:

Thursday, February 28, 2019

Blitz: Future World Rolls!
8:22 AM0 Comments

 photo unnamed_zpseemlnwg7.jpg
We Are Family
Carousels of Life, Book Two

Space Opera
Published: September 2018
Publisher: Sombrella

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png


This Space Opera is set to Rock n’ Roll and classical music, many of the songs being entirely original and composed by the author.

It starts in the mid-20th century with two talented FBI Special Agents being tasked with recruiting people to undertake a really unusual mission. In the process, they are themselves abducted to take a leading role in that mission, which is intended to save the human race from alien conquest.

It involves time travel into the future, as they lead their hostile hunters on a merry chase across the centuries. They have the full support of other sympathetic races in their imaginative survival techniques, allowing them to go on the offensive.

The characters within embark on a series of adventures that are truly moving in their significance. Based initially on our own Planet Earth, the story employs reported alien sightings and events.

Future World ROLLS to its very core!



 photo unnamed 1_zps7johcdsf.jpg

Other books in the Carousels of Life Space Opera Series

 photo unnamed 2_zps5tk1al14.jpg
FUTURE WORLD ROCKS!
Going Back To Our Roots
Carousels of Life, Book One
Published: August 2017


This story contains interwoven strands that are brought together as events unfold.

The first focuses on the aftermath of Nazi research into UFO based systems. Primarily it concerns a flying time travel craft called the ‘Bell’ and its disappearance after those early days when the U.S.A. took over its research.

The second occurs in the future, when alien refugees seek asylum with us on our planet. They come from a planet destroyed by one of its own moons and have wandered the stars, looking for a place to stay.

Soon they are introducing us to other beings, secretly living under the surface of the planet and mining the moon. Naturally, whodunit problems arise for our crime detection agents to resolve.

All this occurs to a backdrop of Rock n’ Roll music, as Future World rocks to its core!




About the Author

 photo unnamed 3_zpspyga22kr.jpg
The author, writing under the pseudonym Terry Tumbler, was born in the 1940s in the small province of Wales, in not-as-‘Great’-as-it-once-was Britain. The adjoining photo of the real author has been air-brushed, so that the possibility of anyone stumbling upon his true identity will not disturb him, also believing that no one who reads his first book can possibly recognise him from the long gone days of his childhood. The first book, The Rough and Tumbles of Early Life, as you may be aware, is an accurate recollection of key events that occurred in his early life.  Others of a similar, warped humour and semi-fictional nature have been produced and are being published.

The author left full-time education with a higher level certificate in Business Studies, had a Commercial Apprenticeship in the Titanium Industry, and subsequently gained professional qualifications in Personnel Management and as a Company Secretary. He worked in all aspects of computing for over thirty years, during which time many reports of dubious value and two technical manuals were well-written and printed.

Now retired, and a few months after moving abroad, the author was bemused to find his dear wife sitting alone on her tilting armchair weeping; the reason she gave was shock and horror at the prospect of spending her remaining years with him. Since then, he has done his best to behave himself, but she has still taken out a funeral plan on him. They have three grandchildren, none of whom much like to be with him for more than two weeks.

Those who may wish to inflict retribution for his innocently evil behaviour as a child, may well see through the flimsy disguise, but should know that the author now lives on alien shores and cares not one jot for their intentions.

Contact Links



Purchase Links



RABT Book Tours & PR
Reading Time:

Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Blitz: Miracles Master the Art
8:22 AM0 Comments

 photo unnamed_zpsvnp3z3mm.jpg
Body,Mind,Spirit / Shamanism
Publisher: GodSpirits United, LLC

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Miracles Master the Art gives readers 12 Steps to Heal Yourself Without Medicine.

With this information, you will never have to settle for anything you'd rather change. By controlling your thoughts and attitudes, and by adding certain words to your thinking, you can control your own health, wealth, and peace of mind.



 photo unnamed 1_zpsntbnp8ip.jpg

Excerpt

12 STEPS TO HEAL YOURSELF

WITHOUT MEDICINE


It was 1980. When the call came in, I was presenting a jazz workshop for piano teachers in the farmlands of central Washington. My husband, Ray, was called to the phone. I continued presenting the workshop, wondering what was so important that someone was calling him while we were miles away from our home in Auburn, Washington.

When the workshop ended, we said our goodbyes and got into our car for the long drive home. Ray started the car, backed out a few feet, stopped, and looked at me with tears in his eyes. He said, “Oh, honey! That was Jeff on the phone.” Jeff was our oldest son, just twenty years old.  Ray continued, “He said a policeman came to our home early this morning to say that Mike was killed in a car accident.” Mike, our second child, had turned eighteen just eight days earlier. As we drove through the Washington countryside, now eager to get home, I tuned in to the news on the car radio, and we heard them announce the death of our son, Michael Alan Jones. Michael was born in Frankfurt, Germany, while Ray was serving in the U.S. Army. It was an easy birth for me, mainly because I was in my mid-twenties. While I was still in the hospital, an Army doctor who specialized in ophthalmology came by to say he believed our baby might have something wrong with his eyes, and he wanted to see us in his office the following week. We complied, and the doctor confirmed that Michael was born with congenital glaucoma. The doctor explained that fluid was flowing into his eyes faster than it could flow out, which could cause excessive pressure on his optic nerve and lead to blindness. He also said that when the baby was old enough he would need to have surgery to save his sight. 

When Michael reached the appointed age of eighteen months, we were living in military quarters at the Presidio of San Francisco, where another highly skilled ophthalmologist performed surgery twice on his eyes over a period of months. For the next eight years Michael was given daily eye drops and was taken to the doctor at regular intervals to have his eye pressure checked and prescriptions written for medicated eye drops.

 Being the open-minded person that I am, I always felt there was a way for Michael to be healed, if only I could find it, in spite of the doctors who said he would always have glaucoma because they did not know how to heal it. When Ray’s military service ended, we moved from the Bay Area to Santa Barbara, California, and “just happened” to move right across the street from a lady named Evelyn. I saw her out on her lawn one day, so I went over to meet my new neighbor. As we talked, I told her about Michael’s glaucoma, and she told me she taught a class in healing, and that it was possible that Michael could be healed if we studied the course. I was ready to study anything if there was even a remote chance of healing, so we agreed.

 The course she taught was written by a man named William Walter, who, through intensive reading and study, had healed himself of tuberculosis, and then developed this course to train other people in how to heal themselves of medically incurable illnesses. The course taught us that: OUR THINKING CAUSES EVERYTHING THAT WE EXPERIENCE. As time went on, using this approach, we began to have success in healing many things, like the common cold and the annual flu. After we had studied this course for two years, Ray and I went to Los Angeles to take the teachers’ training. We both became certified teachers of Eschatology, the Science of Last Things. Then Ray accepted a position as a purchasing agent in San Jose, California, so once again we moved.  

When Michael was nine years old, he still had glaucoma, was still being given daily prescription eye drops, and was still seeing an accredited ophthalmologist, now in the Bay Area, but I felt the time had come for us to take our stand for healing. I had just taken him in for his three-month pressure check, and with medication his eye pressure was under control. The next day I consciously chose to stop putting the medicated prescription drops in his eyes because I felt I had my thoughts in the right place to accomplish his healing.

 Three months later I took Michael to the ophthalmologist for his checkup. The nurse took us into an examination room and asked me what time he had been given his drops that morning. I said, “I have not given him any drops for three months.” She gave me a look of disbelief and noted that on his chart. When the doctor came into the room, he was angry. He said, “Why have you stopped the drops?” I simply said, “We did not do it ignorantly.” The doctor was obviously shaken.  He tried to calm down and proceeded to check Michael’s eye pressure. Then he became quiet, and after a pause he said, “His pressure checks normal.” I was elated, but I said nothing. 

 The doctor left the room briefly. When he returned, he said his colleague, also an ophthalmologist, was asking my permission to follow Michael’s progress along with him from now on. I simply said “No.” I knew that looking for glaucoma in my child’s eyes could reproduce it. That was the last time Michael went to the ophthalmologist. His glaucoma had vanished.

 What we learned in Eschatology is that our son’s glaucoma was caused by my feeling of being pressured (controlled, domineered) by my mother-in-law, Coleen. She could not let go of her son Ray, my husband, even though we had been married for many years and had three  children of our own. She wanted her own way and expected our obedience. I disliked her very much because of her constant intrusion and demands. Once I learned in Eschatology that she was the source of the pressure I was feeling that was causing Michael’s glaucoma, I knew I had to stand against this woman and learn how to say NO to her, rather than allowing her to push me around any longer. I had to change the way I dealt with her. Always before it had been impossible for me to do this, because she was “Mother” after all, and I was trying to be respectful, but it was way out of control. If we did not do what she wanted, she would remind us that we were supposed to honor our parents. 

 Soon my opportunity came to stand up to her. She called one afternoon and asked us to come for dinner that evening. I said, “No, thank you. We will not be able to come.” That was a first for me, and it felt so good! She continued to ask and argue, and I continued to say “NO.” So she hung up. About five minutes later she called back and asked me again the same question: “Will you come for dinner?” Again I said, “No, thank you.” She continued to urge me, and said Father (her husband) might die soon, and this would be the last time we could be together. (She had used that excuse before.) I stuck to my guns and did not budge. She hung up. Five minutes later she called back for the third time in fifteen minutes. It was as if she had totally forgotten that I had said no already, so we went through it all over again. When we hung up from that third call, I felt triumphant and no longer felt pushed around. I had pushed back, and by changing my attitude in how I handled her demands, I had changed my on-going feelings of being pushed around by her. My feelings had reflected on my child’s eyes as glaucoma, even while he was in my womb. I healed him of glaucoma by taking an action that changed the way I felt. I had allowed that woman to push me around for years, and now it was over. I had reversed my feelings of being pressured. Now I felt in control.



About the Author

 photo unnamed_zpsntddjlzm.png
Nancy Lynne Harris, M.A., is a graduate of The Four Winds Society, founded by Dr. Alberto Villoldo, where she was trained in shamanism and energy healing. She graduated as a Spiritual Teacher from the Eschatology Foundation in Los Angeles and healed her son Michael of glaucoma as a result. She completed advanced training in Theta Healing and was recognized by Worldwide Who’s Who for excellence in energy medicine.


Contact Links



Purchase Links


Reading Time:

Monday, February 25, 2019

Blitz: Complimentary Tales
8:22 AM0 Comments

 photo unnamed_zpsxkgtb8dd.jpg
Fiction
Published: June 2018
Publisher: Ideopage Press Solution

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png


Follow a deck of playing cards from an Eastern Airlines flight in the 80's, to where they are today.

The story that takes readers back through time, the characters and settings take a back seat in coach to the free deck of playing cards given to a young boy while flying to visit family. The cards will bind the characters and their unique stories in connections and hidden meanings, and in a way, bringing the cards to life. At times, the suits will be dealt on different continents, shuffled for various games, and held during worthy conversations. Unbeknownst to the young boy, his cards will fly first class all over the world and be involved in a great many things.



 photo unnamed 1_zpsxs5aeezp.jpg

About the Author

 photo unnamed 2_zpskyr2nrzw.jpg
David T. Straw was raised in Miami Lakes, Florida. He taught in the elementary classroom for 18 years in Broward County Florida and St. Augustine, Florida. After quitting teaching, he turned a passion for writing into a full-time profession. David has been writing since high school and used notebooks to let his imagination run. He lives in St. Augustine, Florida with his family and continues to write new projects.


Contact Links



Purchase Links

RABT Book Tours & PR
Reading Time:

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Blitz: Star Marque Rising
12:00 AM1 Comments

 photo unnamed_zpswg9avmfl.jpg
Science Fiction
Date Published: February 19, 2019
Publisher: CS Books

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

The future is governed through a genetic hierarchy—superhumans at the top, humans, and defects at the bottom. Welcome to an all-new military science fiction novel from critically-acclaimed author Shami Stovall.

Clevon Demarco, a genetically modified human, has a cocksure attitude and the combat skills to back it up. With his unparalleled skills, he makes his living as a ruthless gunrunner on a shady space station near the edges of the quadrant. Stronger, faster, and wittier than most sad sacks, no one even comes close to Demarco’s abilities—until he crosses paths with the captain of the notorious Star Marque, Endellion Voight.

Captain Voight arrests Demarco and offers him a choice: go to a prison planet for his crimes, or join her starship, the Star Marque, working as mercenaries for the superhumans. But she didn't pick him at random. She has a plan to become a planet governor; a title no human has held since the superhumans won the war. It doesn’t matter the cost—assassinations, extortion, blackmail—she’s determined to claw her way to the top.

All Captain Voight needs is Demarco’s help to carry out her machinations, and she’ll give him everything he’s ever wanted in return.

A fast-paced space opera for those who enjoy Old Man’s War by John Scalzi, Revelation Space by Alastair Reynolds, or anything by Robert A. Heinlein.


Excerpt


I wheezed and hacked as I stepped out of the vat. The slimy fluid filled my nose and ears, and it took me a moment to snort them clear.

The bright lighting of the room hurt my eyes, but I adjusted in a matter of moments. I got a quick look around and froze up.

Everything was so well ventilated and clean…

I wasn’t in Section Six.

It was a medium-sized room with a single metal door. My healing vat sat in the back corner, extending from the floor to the ceiling. There was a computer terminal and two large, steel crates with the words Medical Supplies stamped across the side. But those things paled in comparison to the viewing window on the far wall.

I walked over, eyes wide, and stared out into the depths of space.

Capital Station hung in orbit around Galvis-4, a brown-and-turquoise planet that acted as the station’s anchor. The space station—white and pristine from the outside—didn’t look half bad from a distance. It was a hexagonal torus, forever spinning to maintain gravity, powering itself from the rays of the system’s star. From the outside, one would never know of the filth that dwelled inside. From space, it was impossible to see the overcrowding and meaningless death that had made the station so infamous.

We had left the dock, but the starship I was on hadn’t left for its destination. Why? My thoughts didn’t linger on it for long.

Man, my new skin felt great.

I rubbed my arms and shins, impressed by how supple everything had become. I wiped away as much excess mother-cell fluid as possible, but the stuff was everywhere. Just… everywhere.

The door to the room slid open. I tensed and whirled around on my heel.


About the Author

 photo unnamed 1_zps6at6ewap.jpg
Shami Stovall relies on her BA in History and Juris Doctorate to make her living as an author and history professor in the central valley of California. She writes in a wide range of fiction, from crime thrillers to fantasy to science-fiction. Stovall loves reading, playing video games, entertaining others with stories, and writing about herself in the third person.


Contact Links



Purchase Links




RABT Book Tours & PR
Reading Time: