Thursday, April 11, 2019

Book Blitz Room 11 by Author Mari.Reiza

~ Book Blitz ~
Room 11 by Mari.Reiza
 Women's Psychological Fiction

About the Book:





After an accident leaves his wife in a coma, he sits on a hospital chair day-in day-out singing to her. Nobody can pull him away from her as she threads through the rage that could save her. Meanwhile, a desperate nurse grows her admiration for him into obsessive desire.








Book Links:



Quotes
Anyone can see this man is drawn to his wife with fanatical intensity, beseeching God to give him sense so that he can reconcile the irreconcilable. Paradoxically, through him and his comatose wife I have a vision of order I can aim to, it comforts me to breathe the same air as this man, being part of his landscape. (nurse)

My mother is tight, neat, closed. I want to explode and scare her, show her the real me. I want her to see through to the real me. But I don’t dare, because whenever she’s around I revert to nothing. I wonder if the pain will go once she’s dead. Then I feel guilty. (wife)

He couldn’t learn to do her toes in a hundred years, and surely hopes he won’t have that long, so he gets someone else to come in once a week who also does her wax every three weeks. That’s how my patient’s heels are soft like a baby’s, unlike mine, which are cracked and tired of my body being on my feet all day. Her legs are smooth like silk, whilst sleeping next to me must feel like lying in bed with a horse brush.

‘I have not slept for nights, I have not slept for nights. I do not remember when I ate last, an apple on Thursday.’ I feel like my flow has dried and I can’t fly anymore. (wife)

The man in Room 11 is singing again as he keeps watch on his Salvador Dali girl dripping out of the canvas of the world. ‘We longed for a child but he was stillborn.’ Next he pauses and takes his eyes off me to look out of the window, so I cannot see the hollowness in them. ‘She suffered like a dog,’ he whispers. ‘But we’re ready now, when she comes back.’


Read a Snippet:

For what seems like a long time, I lay there listening to my family on the other side of the door, loudly talking over each other like politicians. I can’t believe they are standing in the middle of the corridor shouting. ‘What about?’ There is always one tragedy or other to be glossed over if it is serious or thoroughly analysed if it is irrelevant. ‘What’s the drama now? It’s not like there has been an accident!’ I already know that no one will ask about my recent diagnosis, not even extend me a rigor mortis hand, because my family likes to pussyfoot. They’d rather switch on the TV, the radio or both, without really taking notice of either, and keep discussing which butcher sells the best chistorra. There is security in boisterous gatherings and the noisier the merrier to cover any scary silences. I can hear so much upheaval already, it clouds my senses. It is their motto, ‘There is to be no lull in the meaningless communication of inanities.’ Yet attempting any real understanding of each other is taboo, a pagan ceremony for needy morons. ‘Will we go with all our feelings to the grave?’ I want to ask. (wife)


About the Author:

Mari.Reiza was born in Madrid in 1973. She studied at Oxford University and worked as an investment research writer and management consultant for twenty years in London, before becoming an indie fiction writer. Also by her, Inconceivable Tales, Death in Pisa, Sour Pricks, A Pack of Wolves, STUP, Mum, Watch Me Have Fun!, Marmotte’s Journey, West bEgg, Room 11, Triple Bagger, Caro M, Opera, the Retreat, sells sea shells and aberri (homeland), all available on Amazon.



Author Links:



Monday, April 8, 2019

Scepters of Empyrea A Journey to the Andromeda Galaxy by Vignesh Ravichandran

~Book Blitz~
 Scepters of Empyrea
A Journey to the Andromeda Galaxy
by Vignesh Ravichandran 

About the Book:
Empyrea, an island in the Andromeda galaxy belonging to planet Vathura is serene. Everywhere your eyes turn, you will feast on the lovely birds singing their heart out in the lush green vegetation. Osiris Mysterio ruled the regions of Empyrea with his brother Tyrant Seth and with their children Pitheceus Babi, Kraity Wadjet, and Horus Mysterio.



5000 years ago, the ancient Egyptians were the only humans to receive the invitation to enter Empyrea. They gladly on-boarded into a Pegasus chariot and took their journey to Empyrea. Their journey is indescribable. Empyrea by itself was like a fairy-tale garden, an ocean of flowers and exotic trees.

As the Egyptians went further inside Empyrea, they saw its netherworld. They had mixed feelings when they saw the triangle shaped tombs and the bizarre headhunting people. Empyrea also had the blood-curdling creatures like the deadly dinosaurs, gigantic snakes, furious apes, ruthless rhino’s, massive mastodons and many other creepy creatures. This showed the power of the Empyrean Army and that no other army could survive their wrath.

The Emperor Osiris and the kings ruled Empyrea with powerful Scepters. With those powers, they were not only considered as kings but also worshipped as Lords. The Lords with the help of their scepter had the crucial power to transform themselves into giant creatures.

Egyptians while departing from Empyrea was gifted with a shortcut portal to earth and also with some people and creatures of Empyrea to build the Empramids in Egypt. Overwhelmed with happiness they took the shortcut door and returned to Egypt.

However, the happiness was short-lived in Empyrea. The Empire of Empyrea was betrayed for ruling earth avariciously. Somehow the Emperor of Empyrea locked the shortcut portal and asked the Egyptians to safeguard it. The Egyptians, on the other hand, failed to safeguard the portal. And some gangsters accidentally opened the shortcut door in 2017 A.D, entered Empyrea, and inadvertently got access to the Lord scepters.

So, now the Earthians were left with no choice but to battle against the merciless predators and headhunting people in their heroic journey. Their ultimate fate lied in an empire beyond imagination. They would take their stand against the powerful lords, who brutally led their people to war against planet Earth.

Did the gangsters protect the earth from danger, or left the other world to accomplish their tyrant rule on Earth? Explore the world of Empyrea to unravel the truth behind this mystery.

Book Links:

Book Trailer:

Meet Ekmali:

Ekmali with harder effects climbed the edge and ran all over the terrace for finding kalishka, but she couldn't see any foot prints of it.

At last, she saw a blood filled mammoth tusk with a shell ornament on it. She picks it and closes her eyes, and a lovely visual comes into her mind,  a naughty little girl playing alongside in the seashore and picking the shells from the sand, sudden water showers on her, but it's not the rain, it came from the trunk of a kid mammoth with lush brown colored hair. The girl ran towards the kid mammoth and tying the shell ornament.

Ekmali opened her eyes, and the tears automatically poured out of her eyes, she noticed kalishka's bones rolling down on the floor with its blood. She wiped the tears from her face, took the shell ornament and wore it like a bracelet and lifted the tusks of the mammoth, tied at her two hands from her elbow.

The sharp tusks are scratching down in the ground and leaving fire sparks in her fierce footsteps. She was ready to take on the foe army with the extra long tusks of her kid, she lunged like a saber and nailed the sharp tusks into the bodies of Dinomens and quetzals in a humongous force.  .


About the Author:


Vignesh Ravichandran is the author of the book Scepters Of Empyrea: A Journey to the Andromeda Galaxy. He  did his Masters in Business Administration from a leading Business School and  presently working as a Human Resource professional in a leading software organization in Chennai. He wrote this debut novel with the story line which he experienced in his nightmare 7 years ago.




Contact the Author:


Monday, April 1, 2019

Physical by Mari.Reiza Women's Psychological Fiction

~ Book Blitz ~
Physical by Mari.Reiza
 Women's Psychological Fiction

About the Book:



A feminist read that won’t disappoint. 

In a small town in Italy, Kiki feels worthless and angry when her longtime partner finds a new cool girl to ride on another decade of easy existence. Meanwhile in London, Fátima, the wife of Kiki’s best friend, is losing her selfhood after giving birth to twins and being made redundant. Both heroines are determined to rebuild the passion and impunity of their youth, vitalizing desires that will bring them to risk everything.





Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon

Read an Excerpt:

‘You have to stop calling me!’ I said, answering the phone in a rage.
‘We could maybe go on holiday together for a few days?’ he replied in an appeasing, almost a supplicating voice. ‘If that is what you want.’
‘Have I said that is what I want?’ I was taken aback.
I didn’t remember being delirious enough with pleasure at the time of our last encounter to have said something I would later forget. Where were we going? Somewhere exciting? Five kilometres away to the Montello? By bus? Would his mother come this time too? ‘Is that what you want?’ I finally asked.
‘Of course,’ he said.
‘I’m not sure I could bear it,’ I replied more calmly. I pitied him but I had to come clean, there was no point in lengthening the ordeal and I felt so much more courageous on the phone than I had with him in person.
‘Why not?’ he seemed genuinely surprised. ‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘You want a list?’ I replied quickly, before the opportunity could be lost.
He asked me to take down an address and a time, the old fashioned way, on a piece of paper, and think about it. ‘Maybe you will change your mind…’ He had probably seen the trick done on a novella on TV, his mother sitting next to him. At least he would not call back. Good riddance.
Still. I was really in shit. I knew I was in my deepest ever sexual identity crisis


About the Author:

Mari.Reiza was born in Madrid in 1973. She studied at Oxford University and worked as an investment research writer and management consultant for twenty years in London, before becoming an indie fiction writer. Also by her, Inconceivable Tales, Death in Pisa, Sour Pricks, A Pack of Wolves, STUP, Mum, Watch Me Have Fun!, Marmotte’s Journey, West bEgg, Room 11, Triple Bagger, Caro M, Opera, the Retreat, sells sea shells and aberri (homeland), all available on Amazon.



Author Links:
Website * Twitter * Instagram




Monday, March 11, 2019

Book Blitz WEST BEGG by #Author Mari.Reiza

~ Book Blitz ~
WEST BEGG by Mari.Reiza
Humour / Satire

About the Book:

A hilarious yet dark novel on how power, and the lack of it, shapes people. 

Luca’s job is being a punch bag, a tea towel, a toilet bowl, to the undeniable and unbreakable king of egg power proud of averaging two hundred flights a year to visit chicken markets around the world. 
Anna moved to Catania to work for caper queen Madame Sicily, fulfilling varied tasks from picking up Céline swimwear before it hits the runways to recovering badly parked Lamborghinis. 
La Revolução dreams through buildings but builds parking spaces, when she’s not helping launder money for her boss’s dad’s dodgy charities. 
And finally, Carolina is out to conspire with Paquita who met their boss the German in a red lit booth, to understand why the man has to drain the passion out of everything. Their fates will inevitably collide. The question is, will their bosses get what they deserve? 

Book Links:


Quotes:
At the office, Macco One’s sickened secretary barely acknowledges me. She firmly maintains that it is sickening to work in our place, Macco One’s place, says that it is not about the chickens but the cocks, ‘Too many big cocks flying around.’ I have never known her on a high. I leave the box of Indian sweets I bought her by the pot plant on her desk and hope that they poison her, ending her ordeal. (Luca)

The thought of my boss’s iron calves ungoverned scares me. Is it panic or an absolute type of anger? Does he know what he is angry about?’ Ignorance about one’s anger can be harder to deal with than deliberate devil. Sometimes I have nightmares where he chops my arm with the drama of a man picking cherries. (Carolina)

I cannot leave the swimwear on the bike. It is a church, Saint Agatha. No one should steal it by the virgin’s gate. But even so. These people cannot help themselves. They all want to look good at Mondello this summer. (Anna)

Irajá, which means beehive, is stunning, very pale with dark hair, so pale you can see millions of small blue veins through the skin of her face and neck, giving her a magical tinge. This is not the kind of woman you can imagine doing ordinary things like shitting or clipping her toenails. (La Revolução)

I’m crying on Paquita’s shoulders yet again. Her jumper is cheap cashmere. She is small and delicate and perfectly proportionate like a kid’s mannequin. And I am totally aware that this is the strangest of arrangements. (Carolina)

She is not Fuksas. Even if Irajá is convinced that in her heart she is a great architect with a social vision. I guess it keeps her away from pretending to be something more dangerous. When she purses her lips, the natives show fright on their faces and for a moment I expect a long viper tongue to come out pushing against her lips. I think they do too… This pale bundle of nerves is so thin and young, must be less than fifty kilos, below twenty five years of age. Any of those native hands could easily crush her to the ground, but they are afraid. (La Revolução)

Read a Snippet:

I stick out like a sore thumb on my bike in this town, my red curls to the wind, racing through the streets in the old centre, between the ruins of the Greco-Roman theatre in Piazza Stesicoro, up Via Etnea to Piazza Università. That is my first scheduled stop today, at a friend of Madame Sicily. This friend has had the latest Céline swimwear delivered three weeks before it hits the runways.
Madame Sicily had a preview of the collection sent last week in high resolution on her iPhone 6. I printed it for her two days ago on high quality glossy paper, as instructed. She glanced at it in the car whilst travelling to an important meeting in an upmarket country club outside Catania. I waited in the car with Rodolfo, her driver, whilst she went into the meeting, and when Madame Sicily came out she said the meeting had gone well. She gave me back the glossy papers, she had ticked five models. She was happy.
As a result, today I am carrying a 1,500 euro cheque in my right hand pocket. It’s heavy against the light fabric of my ten euro H&M pantacourt that fit me well last summer. I am wearing it today despite it being only April; April is already hot in Catania. The cheque will cover the purchase of an immaculate white bandeau one-piece with a large rose at the right hand breast, a red playboy in Lycra with plunge halter neck to the belly button around which there is an embroidered daisy motif, a Bond girl bombshell two piece in neon orange, and two other plunging necklines, one white and another black, both with the traditional Céline chains design in gold. Madame Sicily has said to her friend Maria Luisa that she needs to get these pieces today, to try them on and decide before her May break on the Agnellini boat in Sardinia. She says if she does not have them today, she will not go. They and the smuggled collagen suppositories from some doctor in Miami are her two requirements ahead of this trip.
Madame Sicily is constantly threatening people in this way and it works for her. So much so that I would go and get these costumes collected today even if I were run over by a maniac en route. I would still get to Maria Luisa, down on my bloodied knees. She would have the package ready, for her own sake, and I would pick the stuff and get to deliver it to the office on time, stain free. I would delicately hand it over to Madame Sicily, and only then I would be allowed to die.
(Anna)


About the Author:

Mari.Reiza was born in Madrid in 1973. She studied at Oxford University and worked as an investment research writer and management consultant for twenty years in London, before becoming an indie fiction writer. Also by her, Inconceivable Tales, Death in Pisa, Sour Pricks, A Pack of Wolves, STUP, Mum, Watch Me Have Fun!, Marmotte’s Journey, West bEgg, PHYSICAL, Room 11, Triple Bagger, Opera and the Retreat, all available on Amazon.



Author Links:





Monday, March 4, 2019

Caro M, by Author Mari.Reiza

~ Book Blitz ~
Caro M, by Mari.Reiza
Psychological / Romance / Contemporary

About the Book:





Portraits of unyielding love. A woman, mostly alone in her world but for her dog, shares memories through letters to her old 'tesoro'; a wife trusts her sweetheart psychiatrist blindly through her divorce; a young girl lands a fairy tale wedding soon to turn into a nightmare her cousin yearns to fix. Immersive, witty, tender,

Caro M, explores the hurricane-like devastation love is capable of.






Book Links:

Read a Snippet:

A week or two passed.
A sustained flow of insubstantial words continued to arrive at a steady pace, written or spoken, with plenty of accompanying emojis as if you had been forcefully commissioned to use your whole emoji library by our one-month anniversary.
Day and night.
And those early weeks I was only brave enough for my replies to mirror yours, until all our assurances blended into each other, becoming almost meaningless. We were confining ourselves to too narrow and stupid a dictionary. We were cautious, out of practice, or perhaps scared there were serious matters at stake and our weightless words helped us pretend otherwise. We should have been more frightened by the strength of the words we were purposefully leaving out. We both claimed feeling so free, so entitled, because we felt so lonely. Instead we were enslaved by terror that certain words could become too serious or too binding. I can see that now, that I should have read into things as early as then, that our relationship was one to run lighter than words. That should have told me something, something about its future, from the start.
It surprised me how soon the game wasn’t enough though.
Would it have been different had we been younger? Would we have been more patient? If we felt tormented to give free rein to our language, how else could we grow our story?
It took barely a month to move from words to pictures. A nice table set with beautiful candles as I was cooking some pasta and coq au vin for Charlotte; she loves it. You were buying wine and boiling spaghetti, alle vongole; you wished you could be having it with me. Another day a scene from my living room. You noticed my sofa. You told me the Boa was your favourite, from the same brand. You liked design. You told me all you would do to me on a Boa, as poetically as you possibly could, choosing from a new set of limited words. I felt as if I was granted a license to be rude, encouraged, as if you had opened a new door, even if it was still a door to an ulterior confined space. It felt like progress.
I responded, things I had only heard in songs, not my songs. And I sent you handcuffs, a nice set, or perhaps you did; I do not remember. We could have been two fifteen-year-olds, up a notch from our primary-school-like earlier exchanges. Although maybe adolescents do things differently nowadays; perhaps we were only middle-aged losers who had finally hooked up on selfies following their late arrival to the Instagram generation. It was suddenly like every minute of our day had to be snapped and shared so we didn’t have to tell each other anything.
And I know they say a picture is worth a thousand words, but sometimes it is worth none.


Quotes:

Your hand was trembling and you passed the note to me quickly like in a Soviet spy movie. I crunched it in my hand and walked away. I could tell you were staring at the back of my golden dress.

‘Stay where you fit in,’ my uncle had rightly advised me before the wedding, but I hadn’t taken his advice. Where exactly did I fit in, other than in the psych ward?

All his money seemed to light Laura up like a beauty pageant; not that she wasn’t beauty-pageant material even without it.

Was I a commodity for you at an acquisitive time? Were you a collector? Should I fret about the value placed on me perhaps as an exotic object? Because I was French? I didn’t think of French as exotic but then I was it, and you cannot be foreign to yourself, although perhaps I was exactly that.

We had known so little about this man yet had let Laura wed him. And at her own wedding she was crying.

‘My husband fucked the woman who delivered our baby!’ I clamour again, full of honesty. It’s good to peak twice, to extend the peak for as long as possible.

I will never forget the sweetness with which you dried their hair. It made me think the world of you; it made me think how life is to be based purely on emotion. After that, I was lost.

Was I guilty of puffing up a dream which could grow expectations larger than Albatross wings? Yes. But then I remembered how I was in violation mode, and that the only purpose of a dream was perhaps not to come true but to break all cages, breach all rules and run around fiercely free.

About the Author:


Mari.Reiza was born in Madrid in 1973. She studied at Oxford University and worked as an investment research writer and management consultant for twenty years in London, before becoming an indie fiction writer. Also by her, Inconceivable Tales, Death in Pisa, Sour Pricks, A Pack of Wolves, STUP, Mum, Watch Me Have Fun!, Marmotte’s Journey, West bEgg, PHYSICAL, Room 11, Triple Bagger, Opera and the Retreat, all available on Amazon.


Author Links:



Friday, February 22, 2019

JUSTICE GONE by Author N. Lombardi Jr

JUSTICE GONE

About the Book:
When a homeless war veteran is beaten to death by the police, stormy protests ensue, engulfing a small New Jersey town. Soon after, three cops are gunned down. A multi-state manhunt is underway for a cop killer on the loose. And Dr. Tessa Thorpe, a veteran's counselor, is caught up in the chase. Donald Darfield, an African-American Iraqi war vet, war-time buddy of the beaten man, and one of Tessa's patients, is holed up in a mountain cabin. Tessa, acting on instinct, sets off to find him, but the swarm of law enforcement officers get there first, leading to Darfield's dramatic capture. Now, the only people separating him from the lethal needle of state justice are Tessa and ageing blind lawyer, Nathaniel Bodine. Can they untangle the web tightening around Darfield in time, when the press and the justice system are baying for revenge? Justice Gone is the first in a series of psychological thrillers involving Dr Tessa Thorpe, wrapped in the divisive issues of modern American society including police brutality and disenfranchised returning war veterans.

Book Links:

Read an Excerpt:

Chapter 5


“I don’t need to tell you how imperative it is to make contact with Donald.”

Tessa was behind her desk, addressing the three people in front of her: Ed with his long sad face; Casey, looking like a brow-beaten youth; and Penny, her angular features and square glasses contradicting her elfish pixie hair.

Tessa’s eyes were glistening. That was how Casey knew she was emotionally distressed. She was a very emotional woman, one of the first things about her that he had grasped from the start, perhaps too emotional. But in his book, that was more of a positive attribute of her character, rather than a flaw.

He knew as well as she did that Donald Darfield was one of the worse damaged of the vets, and now, having just reached the critical point where he was on the verge of confronting his demons, was extremely fragile.

Tessa leaned forward. “We’ve each tried on our cell phones, multiple times, but he won’t answer, so we’ll need the help of others…the ones in his group, those closest to him. We need to know where he would go. Since he basically lives here in our shelter, I wouldn’t waste time in homeless shelters. It’s been twenty-four hours now, and he may have gone out of town. We need to know where.”

“Yes, we’ll get on it,” Casey assured her.

“As for me, I need to see Jay’s father. His landline’s been disconnected. Anyone know the cell phone number…did Jay leave it with us?”

The despondent shaking of heads and shoulder shrugs gave the answer. Abruptly, Penny popped her head up. “Oh wait. How about his aunt?”

“Marshal’s sister? Good. Get it to me.”

Penny jumped up and exited.

“I’m taking a taxi as soon as we’re through here, which I think is right now.”

When Ed and Casey departed, Tessa called one of New York’s many private taxi services. A cab picked her up within fifteen minutes and she was on her way, across the George Washington Bridge and into New Jersey. When they got off the turnpike, Tessa gave meticulous directions to the home of Colonel Marshal Felson, Retired.

There were several vans and a small crowd of people outside the chain link fence enclosing the house. Now was the time for Tessa to try the number Penny gave her, counting on the possibility that Aunt Mae was in the house shielding her brother from the press.

A woman, by the gravelly nature of her voice an elderly woman, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Aunt Mae?” Tessa did not give her time to reply. “This is Dr. Thorpe; I was Jay’s counselor, and I need to speak to the Colonel. If you’re in the house, come to the gate and let me in.”
A brief silence. Apparently she was cupping the phone while conferring with Jay’s father. “Okay, I’m coming to let you in.”

When Aunt Mae, capped with a helmet of gray hair and dressed in a black frock with a discordant flower print, came out to let her in, the predictable surging of reporters commenced and was only quelled after Tessa promised them a comment on her way out. In the company of the elderly woman, she entered the two-story colonial and came face to face with Marshal Felson, standing in the sitting room with a drink of clear liquid in his hand. At six feet and three inches, broad at the shoulders, he imparted a formidable presence despite his weathered face. Silver hair chopped into the nubs of a buzz cut, bushy gray eyebrows, piercing light-blue eyes, and a prominently square jaw demanded accountability, despite his general appearance of an aged vet.

“Hello, Dr. Thorpe. Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, thank you. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

The Colonel retreated to the kitchen in the back. His long- sleeved sky-blue shirt and pressed khakis displayed a subtle formality suggesting a relaxed respectability.

Aunt Mae, clasping her hands in front of her, fidgeted fretfully. “Sit down, dear,” she told Tessa, politeness always an expedient way to dispel the awkwardness.

Tessa took a seat on the damask sofa just as Felson arrived with her drink. She took a sip, surprised at the sweetness.

He looked at her with a sardonic smile. “Seven-Up. The hard stuff. None of that diet shit in this house.” His decorous mannerisms and strained joviality struggled to conceal the pent- up emotional turmoil brewing inside him.

She accepted the glass, saying, “Doesn’t surprise me. Very cool-headed of you to avoid alcohol. I can also sense you’re not grieving yet.”

“Not yet. You know, Betsy’s death took me harder. I mean with Jay going off to war, well…I know the risks of war. But I never expected this.” He sat down in the matching chair opposite her, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m still trying to sort this out.”

Tessa remained quiet, ready to listen.

“But you’re a clever gal, tell me what I’m feeling?"

"Rage.”

“Damn right!” He leaned forward from the depths of his armchair. “You know where I went today?” Felson did not wait for any reply. “I went to identify my son’s body. And the irony of it was…I really couldn’t…identify him. His face was so swollen, his eyes were just slits…his nose looked like a goddamned mushroom…his lips a bloody puffed up mess.” He took a gulp from his glass, then smacked his lips. “So…come to console me, Doctor?”

Tessa leaned forward, putting her glass on the coffee table. “Look, Colonel, I know we don’t see eye-to-eye on these matters—”

“No indeed! Your way is not my way. You just don’t understand. Marines are not ordinary people; they’re special. Going off to war, seeing terrible things, doing terrible things, that’s the goddamned job. If you can’t take it, join the goddamned Air Force, don’t become a Marine!” He took another slurp from his glass. “Going to see a doctor because you got bad memories is a sign of weakness, plain and simple.”

“And of course, you never have? Seen a doctor, I mean.”

“Damn right! So I guess your visit really isn’t necessary, is it?”

Tessa ignored his snotty rhetorical question. “Colonel, have you any idea at all of the whereabouts of Donny Darfield? He’s missing.”

“Donny, Jay’s friend, the colored boy?”

“African-American. Man.”

“Yes, of course…guess I’m old-fashioned. No, haven’t heard from him. Is that the only reason you came here?”

“No. What I really came to see you about is unity. We should bury the hatchet and work together.”

“Work together for what purpose? You know, I had to disconnect my phone…never mind the press…the Homeless Coalition, the VFW, Vietnam Veterans against the War, Iraqi Veterans Against the War, Veterans for Peace, you name it…my son is dead and everyone sees this as a political opportunity. So, tell me, what do you, Dr. Tessa Thorpe, want us to work together on, huh, what, promotion of your clinic?”

“No.” She paused, being purposely dramatic. “Justice.”

He looked at her with his stone-blue eyes, eventually slackening enough to digest her words. He put down the 7-Up he had been holding in his hand for fifteen minutes. “Ah, now we’re talking. So, what kind of justice do you expect my son to get?”

“None at all. If we sit idle.”

He leaned forward and whispered contemptuously. “You know they’re going to try and get out of this?”

Tessa, despite the gravity of the topic, leaned over the coffee table to meet his face and smiled maliciously. “Damn right,” she told him, parroting the colonel’s favorite response. “But we’re not going to let them.”

Felson grinned back. “It’s a deal. Mae’s got your number on her cell phone. I’ll call you. As for now, I’m going to take a valium, my favorite nighttime snack these days, and then hit the sack. I’ll deal with life tomorrow.”

On her way to the taxi, Tessa gave out her promised comment to the journalists, which was that she and Marshal Felson would await the town of Bruntfield’s response before making any comment.


About the Author:
N. Lombardi Jr, the N for Nicholas, has spent over half his life in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, working as a groundwater geologist. Nick can speak five languages: Swahili, Thai, Lao, Chinese, and Khmer (Cambodian).

In 1997, while visiting Lao People's Democratic Republic, he witnessed the remnants of a secret war that had been waged for nine years, among which were children wounded from leftover cluster bombs. Driven by what he saw, he worked on The Plain of Jars for the next eight years.

Nick maintains a website with content that spans most aspects of the novel: The Secret War, Laotian culture, Buddhism etc.

His second novel, Journey Towards a Falling Sun, is set in the wild frontier of northern Kenya.

His latest novel, Justice Gone was inspired by the fatal beating of a homeless man by police.
Nick now lives in Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Follow the Author:



Thursday, February 14, 2019

The Heart of You (A Geeks of Caltech Novel) by Aarti V Raman

~ Cover Reveal ~
The Heart of You 
(A Geeks of Caltech Novel)
by Aarti V Raman


Mixed martial arts studio owner Kit Barranos has always been a fighter. He will fight for his family. For his friends. For anyone in need.

What he doesn't know how to do is fight for himself...

... Or the inconvenient and consuming desire he has for single mom Lily Fallahil.

Office manager, Lily has spent the last decade raising her son and proving her independence to her protective and overbearing brother, Drake.

She has no time for romance. Especially with Kit Barranos, who has a body to die for and eyes that rip at her soul.

When Kit reveals his heartbreaking secret to Lily - he has a brother he never knew about, one he considered his closest friend - it brings them closer, creates a bond neither can deny.

And paves the way for a steamy attraction that explodes between them.

But it isn't just Lily that Kit is slowly but surely falling for. It's her adorable son, Bret.

Navigating the holidays, their families and their feelings is no easy task.

Flawed and fiercely loyal, Kit and Lily have fought the odds and survived.

But, survival no longer seems enough.

Can they take a chance on each other, on their hearts... On a love that braves The Heart of You?

The Heart of You is Book Three of The Geeks of Caltech, a unique band of friends bonded by loyalty, brotherhood, and pain. The Geeks of Caltech are to die for and their women all they wish to live for!

COMING SOON!

About the Author:
Aarti V Raman lives in Mumbai, India and has been a commercial editor and business journalist for the better part of a decade.
She is an incurable romantic who has taken up the task of bringing Happily Ever After to life for the characters in her head. She has three traditionally published novels out, all contemporary romances from 2014-2016, with the next one slated for release in 2019.
She currently writes and self-publishes steamy contemporary romance for urban millennials with a global twist. Sometimes, there are guns and car chases too.
Her new contemporary romance series include GEEKS OF CALTECH and ROYALS OF STELLANGARD as well as standalone romances - all of which have become Amazon India and US bestsellers.
She has also appeared as speaker at lit festivals and events around India and also dabbles in poetry, while conducting creative writing workshops.

Contact the Author:


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