Wednesday, July 31, 2024

Release Promotion: Hot Damn

 

 

  





♦ ♦ ♦




𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗶 🏒

I might co-own the newest NHL franchise but that’s as far as my interest in the Baton Rouge Rogues goes. Until team captain Beckett Higgison and his daughter Whitney become the target of an unscrupulous journalist determined to dig into their past. The parallel with my own past has me doing everything I can to protect them, and the more I do, the deeper I fall for father and daughter.

 

𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘁𝘁 🏒

I never set out to keep my daughter a secret. All I wanted was to protect her, except now she’s on the cusp of adulthood I can’t keep her sheltered anymore. But Whit isn’t the only secret I’ve been keeping. If the truth about her conception ever came out the frenzy around me becoming a single dad at sixteen will be the least of my worries.




♦ ♦ ♦





Rhian Cahill is the alter ego of a former stay-at-home mother of four. With motherly duties rapidly dwindling, Rhian is able to make use of the fertile imagination she used to keep herself sane for all those years of slavery. Years spent living overseas and visiting tropical climates have helped inspire some steamy stories.

Multi-published in erotic romance, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance, Rhian, with the help of Mr. Muse, spends her days and nightsclass="separator" style="clear: both;writing.

When not glued to the keyboard you’ll find her, book or knitting in hand, avoiding any and all housework as much as possible.




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Monday, July 29, 2024

VBT: Dark Walker Series


DARK WALKER SERIES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

GENRE: Speculative Fiction/Horror/ Dark Sci-fi

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

Series Blurb:

When we were children, they told us monsters weren't real. They were dead wrong.

It’s just a closet door with a skeleton key, but when David opens it, he unlocks a gateway to a

sinister world that’s bent on destroying everything and everyone he loves. Some doors are

better left closed.

Embark on a thrilling journey with the Dark Walker Series, and be transported into an

interdimensional tale of monsters, lies and self-discovery. Where the terror of darkness is real

and the line between ally and enemy is as thin as a blade.

"Equal parts coming of age story and otherworldly horror, Gulf probes the depths of loneliness,

loss of identity and childhood trauma. It is a true treat for fans of the genre and had me clutched

in its razor-clawed hands from the first word to the last.” -C.M. Forest author of Infested

Book One Blurb:

Seventeen-year-old David is fading from his world, like a Polaroid picture in reverse. He longs to

feel connected to something bigger.

When his brothers discover the new extension at the rental cottage comes with a locked door,

David finds the key first. Expecting to claim a bedroom, he opens a dimensional gateway

instead, exploring abandoned versions of his world in different timelines, 1960s muscle cars

alternating with crumbling cottages.

Except now the dimensional bridge won’t close, and something hungry claws the door at night.

David scours for clues to break the bridge, but each trip to the other side makes him fade more

on his. Even if he succeeds, he risks severing his connection to his own world, and dying on the

wrong side, forgotten.

Book Two Blurb:

There are doors that open to other worlds, but it’s no fairytale on the other side.

I thought otherworldly monsters bent on devouring my whole world starting with my family

trumped everything. Turns out, I was wrong. My world's only one of thousands facing

annihilation from the maneaters that tried to eat me alive. Charlie saved me, rolled into my life

on a motorcycle, and rescued me.

Problem is, I’m the Embassy’s property now. They’re the interdimensional agency tasked with

stemming the flow of ravenous aliens into our universe, but they seem more interested in

studying me. I crashed a gateway in a way they’ve never seen. The Embassy wants to replicate

that. I think they want to use me as a war weapon.

If I don’t convince Charlie to help me escape, I’ll be an Embassy science experiment for the rest

of my short life, or worse, eternally trapped in the dark hell that fills the spaces between worlds.
 


Excerpt from GULF:

Certain my family is gone, I cross to the five-panel in two strides, twist the key into the lock, and
push the door.
It doesn’t open.
Of course it doesn’t, idiot. It’s still hung like a closet door. It opens out, not in.
I pull.
Mirror.
That’s the first thought that strikes me as I take in the exact duplicate of the living room I’m
standing in. Same green, crushed velvet sofa bed sagging behind me. Identical chipped
melamine cabinets. Same painted windmills on the porcelain tile backsplash—wait.
No me.
No reflection of me. Tentative as Alice in bloody Wonderland, I pull the black skeleton key from
its hole and crane my head through the doorway. No dirty breakfast dishes, but when I look over
my shoulder, there’s still stacks of egg-yolk spackled tin plates beside our sink. Crumpled under
one arm of the hide-a-bed is my plaid blanket, but the one in front of me is empty. Looks dusty.
“What the hell, Everett?” This is creepy. The ole bugger’s built an exact mirror image of the room next door. Where on earth did he find
the twin to that green monster of a couch? There’s even a spring beckoning through the same
spot in the back cushion.
Got an eye for detail, hasn’t he?
Same woodstove too, only this one has a cold, crusty frying pan on it. I can still feel the heat on
my back from ours across the wall.
The pine planking creaks under my next step, and I jump and then smile, but I’m pretty sure it
ends up as a snarl. An odd feeling consumes me whole, the one I had just before Sam Ren and
his gorilla wingmen beat the piss out of me behind the Dairy Queen. A curdled sense of
approaching doom slithers through my lungs.
Get out.
Primal instinct presses me back a step toward the door, but I hold fast there, like a dumbass,
like I waited while Sam Ren eased toward me in the Dairy Queen parking lot.
Shaking out my hands and hissing through my teeth, I scan the room trying to identify what’s
wrong, because something is. Something is very wrong, and it’s not just the duplicate room, or
the draft emanating from here at night. It takes a few seconds to pin it down. The out-of-place
thing. My throat spasms when I see it. I swallow and shift to the balls of my feet.
“Window,” I whisper.


Interview 

On average, how long does the writing process take?

For me, it varies. My debut book took more years to complete than I care to count. Gulf, book one of the
Dark Walker series took 30 days, but that hurt. Book 2, Breach, took five months, but my longer works, I
budget around a year for. I’m generally a slow writer 

 When did you realize you wanted a career in writing?

My sister and I recently found a little pink diary with a lock on it in my mom’s basement. Neither of us
could recall whether it was mine or hers, but when we busted it open, it was obviously mine. Apparently, I
declared at the tender age of eight that I was going to be a famous author someday. I don’t think I’ll ever
get to the point where I’m doing this full time and it pays all my bills, but I don’t mind my part-time day job.
It’s a great balance.
 If you weren’t an author, what other career path would you have taken?
My background is oilfield. I’ve been a plant operator at a sour gas plant so I imagine I would have stuck
with that until the shift work got too excruciating. Currently, I teach First Aid and other oilfield related
courses. The First Aid course comes in handy for characters responding realistically to injuries in my
books.

 Out of the characters that you created, who is your favorite?

Hands down, David, the main character of the Dark Walker series. He deals with all the horrible things I
throw at him with an awkward tenacity and humour that I wish I had.

 What advice would you give to someone looking to be a writer?

Write. Read. People watch. Repeat. Only take the advice that works for you and forget about the rest.
You need creative input to be able to create creative output, so reading is equally important as writing.
Have fun with it. We only live once 

 What kind of research (if any) was required for any of your books?

Well, my writing spans the gamut of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror, so I’ve researched anything from how to
brain tan a deer hide, to the symptoms of a penetrating chest injury, how long can a human survive in
complete vacuum, time dilation derivation, steam engines, beginner mistakes with crossbows, long term
effects of isolation on the human psyche. You know, the usual 

 What are your thoughts on fanfiction?

I’m flattered that folks would love a piece of writing, character, or world enough to want to add their own
spin to it. To me, it signals that they loved the story enough for it to stick with them, and they didn’t want it
to end. There are few higher compliments for an author than that. AI fanfiction, on the other hand, hard
pass.

Would you prohibit fans from writing stories about your book(s)?

Writing them, no. I’d prefer if they had to the courtesy to ask permission first. But, like I said, I’d be
flattered. Selling them, now that crosses a line. I’ve seen a few posts where someone was binding fan
fiction into books and selling them. That’s not flattery. That’s theft. That’s profiting off months or years of
someone else’s hard work. AI writing is doing the same thing. It’s largely trained on materials that authors,
narrators, and artists did not grant permission to use, and it’s putting those same folks out of work. That’s
not a tool. It’s theft, plain and simple.

How long after you finish a book do you start another one?
I usually take a month or two off, then I’m on to the next one. I launched straight into book three of the
Dark Walker series after I finished Breach though. It’ll be out in early 2025. I can wait to share it with you
all! Thank you so much for having me on the blog. I really appreciate the support.



AUTHOR:

At a young age, Shelly Campbell wanted to be an air show pilot or a pirate, possibly a dragon
and definitely a writer and artist. She’s piloted a Cessna 172 through spins and stalls, and sailed
up the east coast on a tall ship barque—mostly without projectile vomiting. In the end, Shelly
found writing and drawing dragons to be so much easier on the stomach. Shelly writes
speculative fiction ranging from grimdark fantasy, to sci-fi and horror. She’d love to hear from
you.


GIVEAWAY

The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner

Thursday, July 25, 2024

Release Promotion: Can't Touch This

 


♦ ♦ ♦

 


𝗔 𝗴𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗽𝘆 𝘃𝗲𝘁, 𝗮 𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝘁, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝘂𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼𝗴𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴…

My plan was simple: move to this small town, open a vet clinic with my bestie, and save as many animals as I could. But then he walked in and ruined everything.

Ryder Carson.

The man who thinks he can boss me around the minute he has a whimpering dog in his arms.

I mean…he’s not wrong.

If an animal is in pain, I’ll do anything I can. But I draw the line at humans.

We clash in all the wrong ways, and most days, he makes me want to neuter him.

But then one night, he brings in two little rescues, and I’m too sick to treat them.

He steals my car keys, grabs me like I’m an abandoned kitten in need of a hug, and takes me home—unwillingly, I might add.

I call it a kidnapping.

He calls it a rescue.

He likes to do that, you see.

And now that he’s ‘rescued me’, he’s demanding payback.

One date.

A single date to see if the sparks between us can set us on fire.

Apparently, if I behave myself on this date, I can touch the very thing I face planted into the first day he appeared in my surgery cradling a sausage dog.

Don’t judge me. If you saw him hugging that little wiener, you would’ve stumbled into his pants too—accidentally of course.

But now I have permission.

An open invitation to see if this handsome, broody alpha is actually hiding a puppy dog heart beneath all that dangerous bite…

𝘾𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙏𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴-𝘵𝘰-𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘤𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦-𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴, 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘺 𝘖𝘊𝘋 𝘷𝘦𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯, 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘨𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘏𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘰. 𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴…𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬. 



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On a career level, Pepper currently has close to 40 books released in nine languages. She’s hit best-seller lists (USA Today, New York Times, and Wall Street Journal) almost 40 times. She dabbles in multiple genres, ranging from Dark Romance to Coming of Age.


On a personal level, Pepper lives on a farm with two minis, four horses, countless birds and wildlife, and a precious little ball of fluff called Mo. Her little house-rabbit sits at her feet while writing all the words, and always seems to know when she’s writing a naughty scene. He’s her muse and the main reason why a rabbit is on her author logo.


Now back to the writing stuff…


After chasing her dreams to become a full-time writer, Pepper has earned recognition with awards for best Dark Romance, best BDSM Series, and best Hero. She’s an #1 iBooks bestseller, along with #1 in Erotic Romance, Romantic Suspense, Contemporary, and Erotica Thriller. She’s also honored to wear the IndieReader Badge for being a Top 10 Indie Bestseller.


After releasing two books with Grand Central, Hachette (Ruin & Rule and Sin & Suffer) Pepper is a Hybrid Author of both Traditional and Self-published work.




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Wednesday, July 24, 2024

WWBC #32: Shopping and Sports


It's an odd combination, but I'll make it work.


July 10th = Do you enjoy shopping? why or why not?


Online shopping I actually do enjoy. It's like "Oh, someone sent me a gift".

As for in store, no. Especially not clothes shopping. I am probably the only woman in America that doesn't like shopping for clothes. It just feels like the security guards are watching from the cameras the whole time.


This week's topic: A sport I Want to Try

.... is Lacrosse

 and you know what? I am not really sure why.


*** The Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge is a weekly meme hosted by  Long and Short Reviews

Sunday, July 21, 2024

Sunday Post #109: 900 Posts


Yes! This week's Sunday Post is my 900th blog post !!!!!! Last month marked my eighth blogiversary !!! 

Post Rewind 

📌 July 9th = TMST #28: Hobbies During the Pandemic 

📌 11th = Spotlight: To Have and to Let Go



Currently Listening

🎧 His Wicked Seduction (by: Lauren Smith)




*** If you don't have anything to say about this week's topic, you can comment on any other part of the post or just say "hi".



*** I am always having to edit many of my posts. If I made any grammar mistakes, I will eventually fix them.



*** The Sunday Post is a weekly meme hosted by Kimba @ Caffeinated Book Reviewer

Thursday, July 11, 2024

Spotlight: To Have and to Let Go

Today I am excited to share the newest release in the Women of Boone County small-town romance series, TO HAVE AND TO LET GO, by Julieann Dove. Chelsea Hayes thought she left Boone County behind, but fate has other plans. Come check out an excerpt and enter a fun giveaway before grabbing your copy!

To Have and Let Go



Amazon* | Goodreads

Release Day July 9, 2024

Women of Boone County #2

Chelsea Hayes is no stranger to running away from her problems. That could explain why she moved six states away from Boone County. And the reason she works a second job to go talk in circles to a therapist bi-weekly, to avoid hitting the dead end and facing her demons. 

Unfortunately for Chelsea, a call back from home forces her to hang up her running shoes and return to face some ghosts that never left, even if she did.

Patrick Jergan is new in town. Someone to take away some of the tension from all the things spinning out of control in Chelsea’s life. But like Chelsea, he’s fighting his own set of problems. The two might make a good match, except for one thing…or one person. He’s thetopic her therapist knows nothing about. In fact, no one in town knows of their past. If they did, there would be no end to the tongues wagging. 

*kindleunlimited

"If you haven't discovered Julieann Dove's books, start right now with Coming Home, the first book in her latest series. It's filled with the complex characters and smalltown charm I love." Sherryl Woods, New York Times #1 bestsellling author of The Sweet Magnolias and Chesapeake Shores series.

About the Author

Julieann Dove takes great pleasure in writing about love and all the mess that goes along with it. How else does happily ever after become realized, if not for some type of hardship and journey? When she’s not writing, she loves playing with fabric at her sewing machine, baking new recipes, and playing in the dirt, trying to get things to grow. Julieann loves old movies, and never tires of listening to music—it’s where she finds most of her inspiration for her books.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter

Read an Excerpt

I was out of town a mile or so, and the same distance from home. The water cascaded

down the windshield in sheets. A shiver ripped down my naked, wet arms. I turned off the car’s

air conditioner and ignition. How long would it take for someone to pass by and help? Throw out

a cable, and it magically hooked where it needed and pulled me out?

Oh, cars came. And passed. Nothing that resembled a large truck with a winch or push

bars to give me the slightest nudge I needed. I sighed. More rain poured. Never the patient one, I

got out, locked the car, and began to walk home. How long could it possibly rain, anyway? This

was Texas, not Seattle, Washington.

It actually took only minutes for water to collect in the soles of my shoes as I pondered

the probability and forecast of a monsoon. And less time for the weight of the rain to form

clumps in what used to be my wispy bangs. Even my eyelashes were unable to withstand the

pelting of the rain, and my eyes strained to stay open. I was cold, wet, and looked down to find

that my shirt now clung to my skin like a cheesecloth.

A bright-orange car passed. The water from the tires sprayed mist that covered my entire

body. It was useless to try to do anything about it. I took another step, my feet sloshing with

every motion forward. Bright, appalling brake lights that glowed from the rear bumper lit the

now monochromatic scene before me. My eyes fluttered against the elements and squinted to

figure out what it was doing. Reverse lights blinked, and slowly it backed up to where I dripped

on the side of the road.

The window lowered to halfway, and I peered inside to see a man hunched forward,

speaking in elevated sound. “Need a ride?”

The question was absurd. Of course I needed a ride. The thing was, I didn’t need to be

killed by agreeing to a ride. Crime television taught me lots of things. Not getting in a car with a

stranger was one of them. Albeit, a nice-looking stranger. His smile, when he asked, was the

kind I’d get if he’d just taken my order at Starbucks. Not a leering one like the weirdo who wants

to shove you in his trunk once he’s given you a sniff of chloroform. Still, I couldn’t be sure, so I

declined.

“No thanks. My house is just up the road.”He persisted. Like a gentleman or a serial killer. It was hard to tell when buckets of water

were being poured upon you. “Really, I’m not a creep or anything. It’s pouring. I can give you

ride.”

I got close enough to smell the coconut air freshener.

Again, my lifelong training of female survivor kicked it. For all the naïve girls who just

wanted to get out of the storm. Forge ahead, stay alive. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks for the

offer.”

He hesitated. “Okay, well, I hope where it is you’re going isn’t far.”

I smiled. Water dripped from my chin. “It isn’t. Thanks for stopping.”

He shook his head and waved before moving forward.

I watched as the lights trailed out of sight. I just saved my own life. Or denied myself a

chance not to get a stupid cold. I’d never know.

I walked the rest of what felt like two miles hunched over, covering my chest with my

wet hand, in the pouring rain. Each step thinking the storm would slack off. It didn’t. I passed

houses with their inside lights on, and watched through their windows as people were going

about their time eating, watching television, or one window where a cat was watching me. He

probably was being reminded that’s why he was an inside cat.

A left turn on Miller and two more houses to go. A blister was beginning to form on my

big toe as it took the brunt of the travel, shoved forward in what used to be my favorite brown

flats. I looked down at the stained dark color and wondered whether they’d ever look the same.

When I looked up again, I noticed that bright-orange car. A spoiler on back, shiny hubcaps, and a

black line down the body of it. I looked at the house where it found itself parked in the driveway.

It was my house! What in the world was it doing parked in my driveway? Well, my mother’s

driveway. This killer was persistent and clairvoyant, it seemed.

I went around to the side door and fished for the key from underneath the mat. Mom was

a genius to leave it in the most inconspicuous place. I looked in the window before turning the

lock. Trying to see the man. At this point of being soaked to the bone, I couldn’t imagine I’d be

too tempting to murder. The bigger mystery was what he was doing here.

I shoved open the door and crossed my chest when I felt the air conditioning bite at the

water standing on my arms. Mom never ran the air conditioning. Oh my gosh. The thought

plowed me over. Maybe he was one of those types who found out someone died and he stalkedthe place for a few days, saw no one else lived there, and he moved in. I looked around for

something to defend myself. Nothing. Why was my mom such a minimalist? No iron skillet. No

rolling pin. Had I been able to get my hand in my wet pocket, I may have checked and found

nothing there too. Before I raided the fridge for a jar of pickles to club him with, he appeared in

the doorway.

“You? What…who…”

“I think I should be asking the same thing,” I said, mopping the water that still leaked

from my stringy hair. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

Still with that Forest Gump look, he exclaimed,

“Chelsea! Of course it’s you. I didn’t

recognize you—

” His eyes moved down my body.

I covered my front, realizing I was a peep show in my white tee shirt.

“You look different not in pigtails and braces.”

Lord, my full-on anxiety stage of life. And Mom kept it prominently displayed on our

mantle. She had my 8x10 third-grade picture next to my cap and gown wallet- sized one.

I fidgeted with my hair. Not much better than ponytails at the present moment. “Okay.

But who are you?”

He ran and pulled a kitchen towel from a drawer. Funny he knew which one. How long

had he been squatting here? He handed it to me. “I’m Patrick.” He held out his hand for me to

possibly shake. I looked, still stuck in the moment, and continued to sop water from my skin.

“Okay, well, I’m Patrick.” He shoved his hand back in his jean pocket. “I’m the chef at your

mom’s restaurant.”

“The chef?” Mom had a chef—er, rather the main line cook, Mr. Newton. He’d

sometimes accidentally leave his teeth soaking in a cup by the employee restroom. I guess it

made sense now that he might’ve not lived long after I moved away. Mom did get him a stool to

sit on to help ease his back when he had to stand long hours.

“Yeah, I…well, she hired me about six months ago.” He went and grabbed some paper

towels and began sopping up the water that puddled around me.

“Okay, but why are you in our house?”

He looked up from where he was kneeling. “It’s a long story, actually.”

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Tuesday, July 9, 2024

TMST #28: Hobbies During the Pandemic

 


Hello All 

This topic I was looking forward to answering. I am also happy that I don't have to combine it with other topics.

This week's question/topic: Have you kept any hobbies that you started during the pandemic?

That is when I started with fluid painting. My first attempts were really ( how do I put this) not good. The biggest issue I had with it was the& consistency of the paint. I still have a problem with consistency. Only now it is with the result. I use the same tools, but I can't seem to get a one piece remotely to others.

For some of my fluidart pieces, search @sea_rose_touk_art on Instagram and for others pieces check out my Deviant Art page.


*** Until Next week....


*** Tell Me Something Tuesday is a weekly meme hosted by That's What I'm Talking About


Sunday, July 7, 2024

Sunday Post #108: June 24 Recap


Hello Everyone!

I thought I would recap my June for this year. It included a baptism and a few days on the southwest side of Michigan.



I also added one fanfiction story to my Archive of Our Own and extended another one.


Post Rewind 

📌  June 14th = Release Blitz: Rebound 

📌 17th = Book Blast: Private License

📌 18th = Release Tour: Rebound

📌 21st = Cover Reveal: Rose Moon 

📌 25th = [Double Post Day] Release Tour: When You Were Mine .... TMST #27: June 2024 Tells

📌 28th = Book Blast: My Second Life

📌 July 3rd = WWBC #31: Museums and Social Media



Goodreads

📚 Forbidden Hearts (by: Corinne Michaels) = moved to read shelf



Currently Listening

🎧 His Wicked Seduction (by: Lauren Smith)




*** If you don't have anything to say about this week's topic, you can comment on any other part of the post or just say "hi".



*** I am always having to edit many of my posts. If I made any grammar mistakes, I will eventually fix them.



*** The Sunday Post is a weekly meme hosted by Kimba @ Caffeinated Book Reviewer


Wednesday, July 3, 2024

WWBC #31: Museums and Social Media



Hello All !  I missed one topic that I wanted to answer, as I've done other times, I am adding it to this week's topic.

May 29th: Museums/Galleries I've Visited/Want to Visit 

On multiple occasions I have visited The Henry Ford Museum (Dearborn, MI) and The DIA (Detroit Institute of Arts). I recommend both places.

One particular museum I would like to visit is Chicago's Field Museum.


This week: My Thoughts on Social Media

If I was asked this a year ago, I would have answered that social media could have been a blessing. Now, I am going with it is (more often than not) toxic. Of course, that is not the fault of the tool itself.


Until next week...


*** The Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge is a weekly meme hosted by Long and Short Reviews