Book Tour & Giveaway: The Demon, The Hero, and The City of Seven by A.E. Kincaid – Genre: Humorous Fantasy @authoraekincaid @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books

“Sometimes a little bad can do a lot of good.”

Welcome to the book tour for a hilarious fantasy debut called The Demon, The Hero, and the City of Seven by A.E. Kincaid! Read on for more info and a chance to win a $25 Amazon e-gift card!

The Demon, The Hero, and the city of seven_updated

The Demon, The Hero, and The City of Seven (A Mal & Reg Novel of Widdershins Book 1)

Publication Date: December 14th, 2021

Genre: Fantasy/ Humorous Fantasy

Sometimes a little bad can do a lot of good.

What happens when good and evil collide?

They yell, “Ouch!”

When you’re a demon who’s been magically connected to a human for eternity, life is bound to be annoying. But when that human is also an inept hero who tosses his lunch whenever he gets stressed out? Breaking the connection becomes priority one.

Plus, there’s a mystery at the heart of their bond that needs unraveling. When the magical object that bound them broke, it weakened the barrier between Widdershins and the Underworld. The duo hopes to find a wizard in the City of Seven who will be able to help with both problems.

Follow along as our demon, Lord Malgon and our hero, Sir Reginald make themselves unwelcome with fairies, humans, dwarves and giants—all while racing to get to the City of Seven before Mal’s supremely evil brother.

In this debut humorous fantasy adventure novel, Kincaid pairs an endearing cast of characters with expert world-building and laugh-out-loud dialogue. The Demon, The Hero, and The City of Seven will leave a Mal and Reg shaped stamp on your heart.

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Excerpt

In my 550 years of existence, I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who exasperates me more than Sir Reginald P. Asstradle, the ersatz Hero of Widdershins. When he speaks, I imagine drop-kicking him off a cliff. When he snores, I fantasize tossing him into a fiery volcano. 
Don’t get me wrong—he’s a good lad. For a human, anyway. But when you are magically entangled with another being in such a way that putting just a few yards’ distance between the two of you triggers the spell to physically smash you back together? That can wear on anyone’s nerves. Like my nerves, for example. Right now.

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About the Author

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By day I am the Creative Director at a branding studio in Iowa. By night I write humorous fantasy novels. In between I drink coffee to keep up with a small human, and try to convince my cat she’s not as great at dictation as she thinks she is. The Demon, The Hero, and the City of Seven is my first published novel.

A.E. Kincaid | Instagram | Twitter | FacebookTikTok

 

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Book Tour Schedule

December 20th

R&R Book Tours (Kick-Off) http://rrbooktours.com

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Balancing Books & Beauty (Review) https://balancingbooksandbeauties.wordpress.com/

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December 21st

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December 22nd

@hoardingbooks.herdingcats (Review) https://www.instagram.com/hoardingbooks.herdingcats/

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  @louturnspages (Review) https://www.instagram.com/louturnspages/

 @bookloverleah (Review) https://www.instagram.com/bookloverleah/

The Livi Chronicles (Review) https://livibrooksbooks.wixsite.com/website

December 23rd

Sadie’s Spotlights (Interview) http://sadiesspotlight.com/

@ofmoviesandbooks (Review) https://www.instagram.com/ofmoviesandbooks/

 @2manybooks2littletime (Review) https://www.instagram.com/2manybooks2littletime/

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Liliyana Shadowlyn (Review) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

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December 24th

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Book Tour: Moon Scorned by Marty Mayberry – Genre: Upper YA/ Shifter/ Paranormal Romance @marty_mayberry @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books

Welcome to the book tour for Moon Scorned by Marty Mayberry! Read on for more info and a chance to enter a giveaway where you could win the prequel novella in the in the series called Moon Hunted!

Scorned bk 1

Moon Scorned (Raven Moon Wolves #1)

Expected Publication Date: January 5th, 2022

Genre: Upper YA/ Shifter/ Paranormal Romance

I fell hard and fast for the alpha of an elite pack.

Then he rejected me.

Everly

Asher took off when I needed him most, rejecting me and my inner wolf. Then my half-sister is murdered at an exclusive college that’s enshrouded in magic and secrets. When the school offers me a scholarship, I accept and move onto campus. I’m going to find out who killed her, then rip them apart. And if I run into Asher while I’m there? He’ll learn I’m no longer his sweet little thing. He’s about to taste the fury of a wolf shifter scorned.

Asher

Everly’s everything to me, but to protect her, I had to shove her away. If I go near her, the Drudge Pack will discover who she truly is. My father—their enforcer—will kill her. But when she shows up at Ravenmire College, my inner wolf hungers. I’ll do anything to keep her safe—even if that means sacrificing myself and betraying my dangerous family.

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Excerpt

Asher was waiting for me outside work, standing in the darkness below a burst of evergreens. When he saw me, he strode forward and cupped my face with his warm hands.

Likes him, my wolf sighed within me.

“Missed you,” he whispered.

“You, too.” My heart rate picked up to double time.

His lips captured mine, softly at first, then harder and with growing need.

I wasn’t sure where this was going between us, but I did know one thing. Cats might rule and wolves might drool, but Asher was my catnip. Whenever he touched me, I purred.

Pulling away, he took my hand and guided me across the sidewalk and out onto the beach.

During the day, crowds of humans mobbed Old Orchard Beach. Once the sun had set and the tourists headed to their rented condos and hotels, the locals could breathe a sigh of relief and enjoy the quiet. And late at night, especially when the moon bathed the sky with her milky gaze, wolves like me and Ash could run.

I kicked off my shoes and shimmied out of my jeans and long-sleeve shirt—I wisely wore thin shorts and a tank underneath.

Asher watched, his smoldering eyes tracing my every curve as I moved. We’d come close to going all the way but hadn’t done it yet. I wasn’t sure why I resisted. He made it clear he wanted to. The heat simmering in my veins told me I did too. I guess I wanted to wait. We’d only known each other for a few months.

He had to leave for college soon, but he said he’d come back for each of his breaks. We had plenty of time to do things then.

We strode down to where the water licked at the shore and stood, staring out at the shimmering sea.

“You ever gone skinny dipping?” The grin Ash shot me was full of mischief.

“Umm…”

He lifted his shirt and ripped it over his head, tossing it aside. Moonlight teased across his muscular shoulders and defined abs. He told me he played soccer in college. Worked out now and then in the gym at his dad’s estate.

This was pure Asher. His amazing body was the alpha wolf in him shining through.

He reached for the button at the top of his jeans.

My breath jerked out of me. “I haven’t skinny dipped yet.” I nibbled on my lower lip.

With his jeans gaping open, he took my hands and squeezed them. His voice softened, something he did only with me. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“The water’s cold. It barely gets above sixty this time of year.”

“It’s not that bad. I promise I won’t touch…too much.” He shucked his jeans. “I’ll even leave my boxers on.”

“It’s not quite skinny dipping if we’re not naked.” My swallow got caught in my throat. I couldn’t drag my attention away from the corded muscles standing out in his thighs. The bulge in his shorts.

“Ev?” he said, his voice calling to everything inside me like a siren from deep beneath the sea. He lifted my chin, and our eyes met. His freakin’ smoldered.

“Okay, I will,” I said.

His fingers caressed my bare arms, and my skin tingled.

He splashed into the sea and turned when he was in waist-deep water. A wave crashed against his back, trying to thrust him back to me, but he maintained his position, watching.

I wanted to tease him, to shimmy my hips and dance while I did it, but I wanted to be close to him even more. I tugged off my shorts and tank. They fell from my limp fingers to the sand with a soft rustle.

Asher groaned. “You’re gorgeous.” His fingers swirled through the water at his sides.

Holding his gaze, I ran down into the water, dressed only in my underwear.

Asher reached for my hand and tugged me right up against him. He ran his palms up and down my arms. As if that would warm me up?

Actually, his touch did. It warmed me up too much. Maybe tonight, we’d…

Likes, my wolf said. More kisses.

I jumped up and he caught me. He’d always catch me. My legs went around his waist, my arms, his shoulders.

His lips sought mine, searing through me. His tongue stroked the seam of my lips, and I opened my mouth, letting him inside. I didn’t need to build a rocket ship to take us to the moon or the stars. Asher’s kiss took me there already.

“You…” he said when he lifted his head. “Have I told you yet how much you mean to me?”

“You can always tell me again.”

“Ev.” His fingers teased my spine, and I quivered, wishing now I’d taken off all my clothes. He kissed the nape of my neck. I melted, my knees pure mush.

Frigid water might bathe my skin, but Asher was the fire keeping me warm

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About the Author

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Marty lives in New England, where you’ll find her plotting and writing while walking in the park–yes, at the same time! Otherwise, you might find her sitting in the shade with her feet up, reading everything she can get her hands on.

Marty Mayberry | Twitter | Instagram | Facebook | TikTok

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R&R Book Tours (Kick-Off) http://rrbooktours.com

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

I Smell Sheep (Review) http://www.ismellsheep.com/

Didi Oviatt (Spotlight) https://didioviatt.wordpress.com

December 21st

 @my_books_and_coffee (Review) https://www.instagram.com/my_books_and_coffee/

  @atrailofpages (Review) https://www.instagram.com/atrailofpages/

 @ofmoviesandbooks (Review) https://www.instagram.com/ofmoviesandbooks/

Balancing Books and Beauty (Review)  https://balancingbooksandbeauties.wordpress.com/blog/

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Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

December 22nd

 @disneyallthe_way (Review) https://www.instagram.com/disneyallthe_way/

Eyerolling Demigod’s Book Blog (Review) https://www.eyerollingdemigod.com/

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December 23rd

@books_inthecity (Review) https://www.instagram.com/books_inthecity/

@eamons (Review) https://www.instagram.com/eamons/

Books + Coffee = Happiness (Review) https://bookscoffeehappiness.com/

The Livi Chronicles (Review) https://livibrooksbooks.wixsite.com/website

Sadie’s Spotlights (Spotlight) http://sadiesspotlight.com/

See Sadie Read (Review) http://sadieforsythe.com/wp/

Bunny’s Book Reviews (Review) https://bookwormbunnyreviews.blogspot.com/

December 24th

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Book Tour & Giveaway: Strangers’ Kingdom by Brandon Barrows – Genre: Mystery/ Suspense @BrandonBarrows @brwpublisher @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours

Welcome to the book tour for gritty noir mystery, Stranger’s Kingdom by Brandon Barrows. Read on for more details and enter for a chance to win a $20 Amazon e-gift card!

Strangers' Kingdom cover large

Stranger’s Kingdom

Publication Date: August 25th, 2021

Genre: Mystery/ Suspense

Publisher: Black Rose Writing

Politically blacklisted detective Luke Campbell’s last chance in law-enforcement is a job with the police department of rural Granton, Vermont. It’s a beautiful town, home to a beautiful, intriguing girl who’s caught his eye, and it’s a chance at redemption. Even if his new boss seems strange, secretive, and vaguely sinister, Campbell is willing to give this opportunity a shot. And no sooner does he make that decision than the first in a series of murders is discovered, starting a chain of events that will change the lives of everyone in this once-quiet town…

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Excerpt

May 1992

The tall bag of bones swung a vicious right that seemed to whistle in the stillness of the thin night air, scraping through the empty space between my chin and throat, just barely avoiding contact with flesh. Seemingly in the same motion, as if using the momentum from his swinging fist, he turned and dashed off into the dim recesses of the alley he’d been hanging around the mouth of — for hours, if Rosalie Stompanato was to be believed. I had no reason to doubt her.

“Police! Get back here!” Shouting was pointless, but I had to try. I gave chase to the already- vanished figure, plunging after him into the deeper darkness between two aging apartment houses. My fist, which I only then realized I was making, unclenched and I reached for the holster under my left shoulder, muttering, “God damn it.”

It was pushing midnight and in just over nine hours, both Rosalie Stompanato and I were due in court for the attempted murder trial of her mid-level racketeer husband, Thomas “Tommy Stomper” Stompanato. Stompanato, loosely connected to the much larger Castella crime organization, had been on a lot of people’s radars for years, for everything from small-time protection rackets to credit card scams and money laundering for bigger outfits. Major investigations by Albany city police, New York state police and even federal authorities produced charges and convictions against numerous Stompanato pawns, and even a couple of lieutenants, but Tommy Stomper himself somehow always remained clean enough to skate away. It took a domestic situation, a middle of the night, literal knock- down-drag-out in which he pulled Mrs. Stompanato out of their lavish home in suburban Malta and, according to witnesses and Rosalie herself, tried to remove her teeth with the aid of a conveniently placed curb. “Stomper” wasn’t just a clever play on his family name.

When I got the tip about a disturbance at the Stompanato residence from a state-trooper friend, I couldn’t help being just a bit grateful for this bit of rage-fueled stupidity. The man had been so clever for so long that it looked like he’d never fuck up, that we’d never find the crack that would pull open his operation and let us drag him out into the light. For Rosalie Stompanato, it was a nightmare, but a lot of us who were after her husband felt gratitude and guilt in equal measures. One woman’s nightmare was a godsend for multiple agencies.

After the incident, Rosalie Stompanato moved out of her stylish home in nearby Malta to a small apartment in the area where she grew up, inside the city proper. Family and friends she knew there were long gone, but the return to a familiar place apparently brought a measure of comfort. It was understandable and it made both the county prosecutor’s work in prepping her for the trial, and my department’s in protecting her, that much easier. Despite the charges against him, not to mention his associations, Stompanato made bail and his organization worked on. With a trial looming over his head, but no date set, the mobster seemed to keep his nose relatively clean, knowing the state’s attorney would be more than happy to tack additional charges onto the list he was already facing. That and time, as weeks became months, allowed Rosalie Stompanato to make a life for herself unmolested.

“At least the kids are already grown and out on their own,” Rosalie told me once, in a private moment. “If this happened ten years ago…” She broke down without finishing, but I knew what she was thinking.

I kept in regular touch with her after that, partially because I felt she needed the support, but also hoping to pick up something that would further widen the chink in Tommy Stomper’s armor. She seemed to be doing as well as could be expected. She was even starting to feel safe again, she told me — until the night before the trial finally began.

It was past eleven o’clock when I received the woman’s call; I’d given her my home number and told her to call any time, for any reason. She noticed a figure, she said —a tall, gangly man she didn’t remember ever seeing in the neighborhood before, who spent hours standing in the mouth of the alley directly across from her apartment.

“It’s probably nothing,” I told her, as much to convince myself. Tommy Stomper proved he wasn’t stupid, but with so much riding on the events of the next day, maybe he was becoming desperate. “But I’m happy to check it out.”

When I arrived on Rosalie’s street, fifteen minutes after her call, I saw exactly who she was worried about and exactly why. He stood just outside the circle of light cast by a streetlamp, hanging around the mouth of an alley. I watched for a few minutes and he did nothing at all — not so much as light a cigarette, shuffle his feet or cough. He wasn’t worried about seen.

I exited the vehicle and approached.

Closer up, I could see he was a sickly thin young man, skin so pale it almost seemed to glow in the dimness. He wore a faded blue hooded sweatshirt that hung from him like laundry on a line and his hair was short, mussed and unwashed, making it look like blond barbed wire. I’d have bet his diet consisted largely of amphetamines.

The guy’s eyes, watchful and wary, scanned me as I approached. I flashed my badge and said, “Evening.” That was all it took. Those animal-alert eyes went wide and his fist swung out in an arc and then he was gone, rabbiting towards the nearest hole.

My feet pounded the pavement, echoing sharply in the narrow, trash-strewn space, all senses searching for signs of the danger I was rushing headlong into. Light beckoned from a short distance and after a moment, I burst out into the next street. Even the soft yellow glow of sodium lamps seemed brilliant after the pitch-dark of the alley and, as my eyes adjusted, I turned left then right, spotting a figure disappearing around the corner. I followed, telling myself I was being stupid, telling myself I should go back to Rosalie Stompanato’s, make sure she was all right, call it in, ask for additional officers, all while my feet took me closer to where I saw that retreating form.

I turned the corner, saw a flash duck around yet another corner. At the mouth of the alley, I allowed myself an instant’s rest before entering. Even from the street, it was clear this was a dead-end. There was nothing but darkness down this brick corridor — the alley was blocked up midway down.

I drew my weapon, fumbled in my coat pocket for my penlight, flicked it on, then aimed it and the weapon down the length of the alley, sweeping the narrow width of the space.

“C’mon out. There’s nowhere left to go.”

My heart pounded in my chest and there was a stitch in my side, but I felt good all the same.

Stompanato’s intimidation failed, and I caught his crony in the act. Witness tampering charges would be a bonus year or two on Stompanato’s sentence.

There was a rustle behind a pile of discarded cardboard boxes. “Let’s go,” I commanded. “Now.”

The figure rose like a scarecrow in a concrete field, arms lifted in a half-hearted pose of surrender. I flicked the flashlight’s beam upwards; he shied away, blinded by the brilliance, his head turning and one arm flying up to protect his eyes. I shifted the light so I could hold both it and my weapon in my right hand then started forward, plucking a pair of handcuffs from my pocket. With my left hand, I reached for the man’s wrist. Up close, I could see he was barely more than a kid.

“You’re under arrest for disobeying a lawful command, resisting an officer and—” I never got to finish.

The fist I’d narrowly avoided before thrust out again, catching me hard in the right shoulder, a wave of pain and shock jolting down the length of my arm. He was a lot stronger than his frailness suggested. He followed up with a two-handed push that sent me spinning off to one side, banging my other shoulder off of the rough stone wall of the alley, before rushing past, trying again to escape.

I threw out a hand, grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt. It stopped him, but only long enough for him to half-turn and chop an open-handed blow down onto my elbow. Fresh pain skittered along my nerves, but I didn’t let go, instead raising my right hand, only to discover it was empty. Somewhere in those chaotic two or three seconds, I dropped my gun.

I cursed and struggled for a better grip on the kid’s clothing. He was thrashing wildly, yelling, “Let go! Let go!” his voice shrill and his mind going into panic mode. The decision between fight or flight was no longer his to make, but it seemed as if he was trying to choose both options simultaneously.

“Settle down! Cut it out, God damn it!” I snarled, freeing one hand to cuff him alongside the back of the neck, trying to startle him into a semblance of calm. “Nobody’s going to hurt you, but you’re digging yourself one hell of a hole!”

He ignored the words and continued to flail around. I tried to tackle him around the waist and ended up dragging both of us down to the filthy floor of the alley, where we rolled around for a few seconds, trading a punch a two. We were making enough noise that lights in the surrounding buildings came on. I hoped someone would have the sense to call 911, but even if they did, I knew nobody would arrive soon enough to help me get out of this. I was on my own.

Just as the thought flew through my head, the kid stopped moving. I allowed myself to hope he was coming to his senses at last. Then his hand shot out, straining to reach beyond my head, and when it came back into view, his fingers were wrapped around a chunk of brick the size of a small loaf of

bread. He reared up, holding the thing above his head, prepared to end things between us. In the scant light of the nearly forgotten flashlight, his eyes looked huge and empty.

My own eyes flew all around, frantic, searching for a way out. The other man was straddling my chest and his knees kept me effectively pinned to the ground, but my arms were free and my fingers scrabbled across the rough, cold ground, searching for something, anything, to break this deadlock. They closed around something even colder, something metallic and familiar.

As the brick came down, my fist came up, and the explosion of noise and light only inches from my face all but knocked me senseless.

Available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble

About the Author

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Brandon Barrows is the author of the novels STRANGERS’ KINGDOM, BURN ME OUT, and THIS ROUGH OLD WORLD. He has published over seventy stories, selected of which are collected in the books THE ALTAR IN THE HILLS and THE CASTLE-TOWN TRAGEDY. He is an active member of Private Eye Writers of America and International Thriller Writers and was a 2021 Mustang Award finalist.

Brandon Barrows

 

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Book Tour Schedule

December 20th

R&R Book Tours (Kick-Off) http://rrbooktours.com

Rambling Mads (Review) http://ramblingmads.com

Carrie’s Book Reviews (Spotlight)  https://carriesbookreviews.com/

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December 21st

Gina Rae Mitchell (Spotlight) https://ginaraemitchell.com/

Lilyana Shadowlyn (Spotlight) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

December 22nd

The Magic of Wor(l)ds (Interview) http://themagicofworlds.wordpress.com

Book Rambling and Tea (Spotlight) https://booksramblingsandtea.com/

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

The Faerie Review (Spotlight) http://www.thefaeriereview.com

December 23rd

 @gryffindorbookishnerd (Review) https://www.instagram.com/gryffindorbookishnerd/

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

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December 24th

 @2manybooks2littletime (Review) https://www.instagram.com/2manybooks2littletime/

Misty’s Book Space (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/mistysbookspace/

  @allpagesandcoffee (Review) https://www.instagram.com/allpagesandcoffee/

 

 

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Book Tour & Giveaway: Scattered Legacy: Murder in Southern Italy by Marlene M. Bell – Genre: Mystery/ Suspense @ewephoric @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours

Welcome to the book tour for Scattered Legacy by Marlene M. Bell! Read on for details and the fantastic giveaway at the end!

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Scattered Legacy: Murder in Southern Italy 

Publication Date: November 4th, 2021

Genre: Mystery/ Suspense

To outsiders, the relationship between Manhattan antiquities assessor Annalisse Drury and sports car magnate Alec Zavos must look carefree and glamorous. In reality, it’s a love affair regularly punctuated by treasure hunting, action-packed adventure, and the occasional dead body.

When Alec schedules an overseas trip to show Annalisse his mother’s birthplace in Bari, Italy, he squeezes in the high-stakes business of divesting his family’s international corporation. But things go terribly wrong as murder makes its familiar reappearance in their lives – and this time it’s Alec’s disgraced former CFO who’s the main suspect.

Accompanied by friend and detective Bill Drake, Annalisse and Alec find themselves embroiled in a behind-closed-doors conspiracy that threatens the reputation and legacy of Alec’s late father – linking him to embezzlement, extortion, and the dirty business of the Sicilian Mafia. The search for the truth sends the trio straight into riddles, secrets, and an historic set of rosary beads. Annalisse leads Alec toward a discovery that is unthinkable, and events that will change their futures forever.

Scattered Legacy is the third in Marlene M. Bell’s thrilling Annalisse series, which weaves romance, crime, and historical mystery into addictive tales to instantly captivate fans of TV show Bones or Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code.

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Excerpt

The reception area is completely empty, and there’s a smell like metal in damp dirt circulating overhead. Farther in, the ceiling fan is hovering on high speed, and the windows are open.

A dead body inside a warm office leaves an unmistakable odor behind, as did the body Ethan found inside the stall at Walker Farm. Decomp is one smell that sticks with you forever. Adding to the office creepiness, who chose the interior’s decor? We’re surrounded by limestone walls painted an ugly shade of ochre, slightly more yellow and definitely more unappealing than the building’s exterior. The rooms will need another coat of fresh paint to cover a harsh stench known to stick to the walls like cigarette tar does.

No one is nearby, not even the receptionist.

The office cubicles are silent but for a few flapping papers. Not a single desk phone is ringing. It’s like the office decided to have a fire drill midday, and the employees left their computers on and didn’t bother to close folders—open to anyone passing by. Frames holding pictures of sweethearts and children stand by as guardians for the people who are absent from their high-back swivel chairs.

Officer Raffa returns and mutters in heavy Italian brogue, “Il signore is waiting for his… avvocato difensore.” He points to the room with a closed door. “Come, Mr. Zavos. Your friends stay here.”

“Josh is in there waiting for his defense attorney. Back soon.” Alec touches my arm and looks at Bill, sending him a private message.

Alec’s led to a side office, and the solid door closes behind them.

“Is Alec signing autographs, or should I even worry about what’s going on in that room? Has Josh been here the entire time messing with evidence?” I ask Bill.

“Alec’s prepared for all contingencies. I’m surprised they haven’t taken Jennings down to the station by now.”

A few minutes later, Alec emerges by himself. “They weren’t going to allow us to talk to Josh, but I persuaded him. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

For what feels like an eternity, we sit in ladderback pine chairs with brown cushions while Alec keeps adjusting his watch. I don’t know what Alec had to promise the officer. Autographs are fine with me, but if he had to pay him off, I’d rather not know.

“I hope Brad is parked in the shade somewhere.” Alec looks at his watch for the eighth time in twenty minutes and turns to me. “Now that we’re here, they seem to be in no hurry to get rid of us. I’m sorry, Anna. Hold on a little longer.” His smile is an honest one full of regret.

I’ve heard the sentiment from him so often it doesn’t even register with my brain anymore. We both have a lot of work to do in the I-promise-to-do-better department.

The closed door at the back wall opens, and a guy pokes his head out, surveying the room. He’s fiftyish and, with his reading glasses, reminds me of Gen’s studious accountant.

Alec pivots, and his earlier smile vanishes.

“That’s Jennings,” Bill says quietly.

“Yes.” Alec waves to draw the man’s attention.

A confused Josh looks at us and then the floor as if he’s embarrassed. Eventually he settles his eyes on Alec. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. My attorney should be here soon. Come back to the conference room.”

Bill asks Alec, “Is it okay to go on ahead?”

Alec must have compensated the officer well to allow us entry this close to the crime scene.

“Let’s get this over with.” Alec seems queasy.

The three of us move through the aisle between desks and toward the room with a door left open for us. Josh has already gone inside. For someone who wants Alec’s help, he sure doesn’t appear happy or grateful for his effort. A huge effort. This had better not be Josh’s way of buying himself out of the woman’s death. The disgrace of being fired from Signorile after Pearce’s tragedy has to hurt his pride.

There’s news of a deadly virus moving through Europe, and the typical handshake is no longer being used between business execs.

Bill lifts his arm and catches himself. “Mr. Jennings? My name is Bill Drake, an associate of Mr. Zavos. You’ve asked to see him, and we also have some questions for you on another matter.”

“Wonderful.” The man in a sweaty, slept-in polo isn’t thrilled with us staring him down. There’s frost in the room as testosterone flies between glances. No one wants to be the first to break the sheet of ice forming around the presumed blue-eyed killer. Alec hasn’t made any assumptions yet until we talk to him, but Josh’s cool facade feels calculated to me. A superior to Alec, or something like that. For an innocent, I don’t like his peculiar behavior in the presence of a man who’s here to keep his neck from a noose.

“I asked to see Alec. Who are the rest of you?”

He’s behind a chair, using it as a shield to save himself from a CEO who wants to take his livelihood from him again. Or is it because he’s guilty of ending a woman’s life?

Alec pulls out the chair for me, and we all sit at the long conference table with a fancy letter F embellished in the center.

Josh’s temples bead with sweat, and he’s wringing his hands next to a wool felt fedora hat with a band. They seem to be popular in Italy. The guy’s bloodshot eyes and dark circles are sure signs of insomnia and stressing to the max. Wet ovals hang beneath the armpits of his beige shirt.

Alec’s unshakable gaze lands on Jennings, who abruptly turns away.

This meeting isn’t opening well.

Bill addresses Josh. “We don’t have a lot of time. Authorities aren’t thrilled with us questioning you, but they were… let’s say, swayed. Tell us what happened here?”

“She was tied and tortured in my office after I left night before last. I opened the building in the morning at seven and found her lying on her side, strapped to a chair and wrapped in wire near my desk. Lots of blood.” Josh holds a paper towel over his mouth, then uses it to wipe away perspiration. “When I left the building, she was in the conference room. I have no idea how she ended up in the office. Maybe the cat went in there.” He slides the fedora into his lap.

“Who is she?” Alec asks.

“Benita Alvarez.”

Available on Amazon

About the Author

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“Mystery at a killing pace”

Marlene M. Bell is an award-winning writer, artist, and sheep breeder who resides in beautiful East Texas. Her renown sheep photographs grace the covers of many livestock magazines.

The third book in the Annalisse Series releases in 2021. Scattered Legacy is an international mystery with light touches of romance. Stolen Obsession and Spent Identity, books one and two, received numerous awards including the Independent Press Award for Best Mystery in 2020. Her mysteries can be found at marlenembell.com.

Marlene also writes children’s books. Her first children’s picture book, Mia and Nattie: One Great Team! is based on true events with Natalie from the Bell’s ranch. It’s a touching story of compassion and love between a little girl and her lamb. Mia and Nattie is honored to be a Mom’s Choice Gold Award winner.

Marlene shares her life with her husband and a few dreadfully spoiled horned Dorset sheep: a large Maremma guard dog named Tia, and cats, Hollywood, Leo, and Squeaks. The cats believe they rule the household—and do.

Marlene M. Bell | FacebookTwitter 

 

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Book Tour Schedule

December 20th

R&R Book Tours (Spotlight) http://rrbooktours.com

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Books, Rambling, and Tea (Spotlight) https://booksramblingsandtea.com/

 @librarybookmum_budgettale (Review)               https://www.instagram.com/librarybookmum_budgettales/

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December 21st

Carrie’s Book Reviews (Spotlight) https://carriesbookreviews.com/

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December 22nd

Gina Rae Mitchell (Spotlight) https://ginaraemitchell.com/

Jessica Belmont (Review) https://jessicabelmont.com/

@gryffindorbookishnerd (Review) https://www.instagram.com/gryffindorbookishnerd/

The Faerie Review (Spotlight) http://www.thefaeriereview.com

December 23rd

  @louturnspages (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/louturnspages/

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

   @efatuatedreadings (Review) https://www.instagram.com/efatuatedreadings/

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Review) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

December 24th

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

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A Signed Copy of Scattered Legacy – The Annalisse Series

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Mini Tour & Huge Giveaway: Last Blue Christmas by Rose Prendeville – Genre: Holiday Romance @RosePrendeville @RRBookTours #Romance #Books

Looking for the perfect holiday read? Look no further! 

Welcome to the book tour for Last Blue Christmas by Rose Prendeville. Read on for details and a chance to win a $50 Amazon e-Gift Card!

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Last Blue Christmas

Publication Date: December 1st, 2021

Genre: Contemporary Romance/ Holiday Romance

The only case they haven’t cracked is how to be together.

Not on Officer Maggie Kyle’s Christmas bingo card:

• A homemade bomb in a bus station locker.

• A child, the prime suspect in the bombing.

• Her partner of ten years abandoning her to solve the case on her own.

Max St. James might be the worst cop in the world—or at least in Toronto:

• He fell in love with his partner.

• He’s the reason she never became a detective.

• He doesn’t much care who planted the bomb.

The IED’s blast ignites years of tension, sending Maggie and Max careening in opposite directions—but opposites still attract.

Can they find a way to come together to solve the case before another bomb goes off?

And will it mean another ten years sacrificing the future they want for the partnership they already have?

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Excerpt

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… four migraine headaches, three massive ulcers, two aching ear drums, and a hole where my heart ought to be,” Maggie sang quietly to herself as though Max wasn’t sitting right there. She cracked herself up and switched off the unmarked Suburban’s FM radio with a flourish, and Max could swear he caught a whiff of cinnamon.

“Maggie Kyle, your Christmas spirit confounds me,” he told his partner. He was pretending to watch a Buick creep down the street a little too slowly so she wouldn’t guess how attuned he was to the earnest timbre of her voice or the wry quirk of her lips. She was trying too hard to act casual with him, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Maggie forced another laugh. “Christmas spirit,” she repeated, skimming the crossword puzzle in her lap before glancing back across the street at the rundown residence of Bobby King. Its peeling paint, once white, was now a weathered gray, and of the four green shutters meant to frame the front windows, two were broken and one was missing altogether.

“What is a six-letter word for ‘lack thereof,’ Alex?”

“Jeopardy’s not a crossword puzzle,” she said, making sure he saw her eye roll.

“Dispatch, we need to put out an APB on Officer Kyle’s missing Christmas spirit.”

“You going to call in that Buick?” she changed the subject.

“I wrote down the plates,” he lied, squinting to make them out so he could record the vehicle in his logbook.

Maggie picked up the radio. “51-19?”

“51-19, go ahead,” another officer responded from his own unmarked vehicle around the corner.

“10-15 headed your way. Tan Buick, early 2000s model, traveling east. Manitoba plate: Yankee Lima Echo seven seven eight.”

“Copy,” 51-19 replied.

Maggie replaced the radio and turned her attention back to the crossword. “Frankie wants to enter that gingerbread contest, and her mom’s been playing Christmas carols since before Halloween. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

“Got it. No Christmas carols.”

Max drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. When exactly had she lost her Christmas spirit? He could picture her as a little girl—in his mind she wore two long braids and was constantly shaking her bangs out of her eyes—staring up at the sky waiting for Santa to ride out of the stars like a meteor with the same patience she now bestowed on their stakeout. “But peppermint lattes are okay?”

She grinned. “I’ll allow it.”

“So you only hate Christmas a little bit then?”

Maggie snorted.

Time was, Max didn’t mind the odd stakeout. It beat writing parking tickets or chasing shoplifters through the snow. Play some tunes, shoot the shit, pee in a bottle if things got urgent.

With the right partner it could seem like a day off. But everything was like eggshells with Maggie lately, and he couldn’t figure out when exactly things had changed.

Today he felt a special kind of twitchy, the kind that made you want to peel off your own skin. Max loved the city—sometimes he hated how much he loved it—but sitting still all week, downtown where the Toronto high-rises blocked out the sky, he was starting to feel caged, like the buildings were closing in from every direction.

Maybe he was psyching himself out after the whole ancestry test situation. The dichotomy of an Indigenous urbanite was turning his brain against itself. Maybe he just needed a vacation.

“Do you believe in nature versus nurture?” he asked.

“What, you mean like, mama tried but Bobby King was born rotten and no amount of church or cuddles or bedtime stories could have stopped him growing up to be a cop-killing gun runner?”

“Something like that.”

Maggie shrugged at him. “You missed a button.” She pointed at his shirt. “Girlfriend didn’t catch that?”

She was obsessed with the idea that he and Selina from next door shared more than a wall. It had only happened once—okay a handful of times. But it was five years ago, and there was no way Maggie could have known, except somehow she did. Even back then there’d been something, in his gait as he walked to the patrol car or a half-guilty look in his eyes; she had known, and if he protested now she’d take it as some kind of proof.

Not that it should even matter. They were partners, not lovers, and he’d certainly been her shoulder to cry on when the asshat from college dumped her and split back to Edmonton.

Max should have made a move on Maggie then, but he was still her TO and besides, he’d been a rebound before. He didn’t want to be one for Maggie, and she didn’t want him anyway. She’d been singularly focused on making detective since her first day at Fifty-One Division. Until, somewhere along the lines, she hadn’t.

And she was right about the button. His black undershirt was peeking through. Did he bother to look in the mirror this morning? After a dozen years on the job, he knew what he’d see. Not his father, not even his grandfather—just a sad imitation, like a kid who got the wrong size costume at Halloween.

Her phone began to vibrate then, and she, too, silenced it without answering.

“Your mom again?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, which meant yes.

“She giving you a hard time about staying here for the holidays?”

“I’ll take ‘Does the earth orbit the sun?’ for a thousand, Alex.”

“Weren’t you going to invite your folks out here for Christmas?”

“That was last year.”

An uncomfortable mixture of lust and shame surged through Max, from the tips of his ears to his belly, at the thought of last Christmas. He tried to remember her parents being in town, but all that came to mind was the department holiday party and sweaty fumbling in a dark interrogation room. And cinnamon. She had smelled like cinnamon then, too.

Available on Amazon

About the Author

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Rose Prendeville is a librarian and honorary Canadian with a passion for stories about found families and flawed people doing their best.

She’s been devising such tales for as long as she can remember, including secretly in the back of her tenth grade French class (Pardon, Madame Gonzales), and she went on to double-major in screenwriting and creative writing.

Hydrangeas are her lifeblood, hot baths and hiking are her solace. She adores baking (and mostly eating) macarons, and she can’t wait to share this and future books with you.

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December 13th

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 December 15th

Sadie’s Spotlight (Spotlight) http://sadiesspotlight.com/

@sleeping.bookish (Review) https://www.instagram.com/sleeping.bookish/

Rambling Mads (Review) http://ramblingmads.com

December 16th

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com

   @my_books_and_coffee (Review) https://www.instagram.com/my_books_and_coffee/

Latisha’s Low-Key Life (Review) https://latishaslowkeylife.com/

December 17th

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Liliyana Shadowlyn (Review) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

 

 

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Mini Tour: Unicorn Farmhand by Samuel Yaw Jian Fong – Genre: Fantasy @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books

Welcome to the mini tour for fantasy novel, Unicorn Farmhand by Samuel Yaw Jian Fong. Read on for more details!

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Unicorn Farmhand

Publication Date: December 2019

Genre: Fantasy

Every horse has a talent or two. Some can sit, some can jump over obstacles, and some can select a button for a treat. For one particular draft horse, Dok Saau, his talent is in writing. He does not just scribble letters in the ground as a trick, but he also uses his talent to express his own thoughts to his bemused owners.
Surprised by his strange talent, his owner Chang Gao brings him to the Horse Fair, where he beats the other horses by writing proper answers to several questions. After a DNA scan, he is revealed to be a unicorn: even though he was supposed to be released into the wild, the authorities let Chang Gao keep him so that he might become a local attraction.
Yet even as he tries to adjust to his new life as an animal celebrity, every now and then he faces recurring nightmares from his troubled past. As he seeks Chang Gao’s help, will he be there to help him defeat his fears? Or would they instead attract something much worse: something that could threaten his comforts or even his own life?

Available on Amazon & Kobo

About the Author

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Samuel Yaw Jian Fong is an amateur author and artist from Seremban, Malaysia. Due to a lot of time spent on the Internet, he enjoys making his own fictional worlds inhabited by dozens of quirky characters  Would you like to check them out?

For more information about his works, check out the Rabydosverse Wikia and HorsesPlease’s DeviantArt page.

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December 13th

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December 14th

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December 15th

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

December 16th

Rambling Mads (Spotlight) http://ramblingmads.com

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Review) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

December 17th

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