Monday, March 27, 2017

Gardens of Hope Blog Tour



We're happy to be hosting Michael Holloway Perronne's GARDENS OF HOPE Blog Tour today! Please leave a comment to let him know you stopped by!


Title: GARDENS OF HOPE
Author: Michael Holloway Perronne
Publisher: Chances Press
Pages: 268
Genre: Gay fiction/Historical Fiction/Historical Romance

On the surface, Jack appears to have all a man in World War II era 1941 could want with his solid middle-class background, upcoming college graduation, and the perfect, devoted fiancee. But one night when he accidentally stumbles upon a shadow life of men who desire other men in a Downtown Los Angeles park, he begins to realize exactly what has always left him with a feeling of emptiness.
Despite the constant danger of being arrested by vice cops, Jack continues to visit the park every chance he has to feel a connection, no matter how fleeting, with another man. One night he meets a handsome and charismatic Japanese-American, Hiro, who appears to want more than a quick encounter, and Jack surprises himself by starting to truly fall in love for the first time.
However, after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, President Roosevelt issues Executive Order 9066 and orders the mandatory relocation of over 100,000 Japanese-Americans, who have never been charged with a crime, to far flung internment camps sites. Jack and Hiro suddenly find themselves torn apart before their secret, fledgling romance can blossom. Desperate to find and reconnect with Hiro, Jack accepts a high school teaching position at an internment camp in the California desert, Manzanar. There, surrounded by armed guard towers and a prison-like environment, Jack begins to fully realize the injustices being faced by Japanese-Americans during one of the most controversial times of United States history and shifts his world view- forever.

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble


Book Excerpt:


I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my pea coat and continued to walk faster and faster toward the park, fast enough that I began to sweat even though it had turned downright cold at this point. I walked by the May Co. Christmas window displays with their Santas and snowmen and wondered how anyone could have a jolly holiday now knowing the danger that threatened us all after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Sure, we had been listening daily to the news on the radio describing bombings in Europe, but I knew that having a mass attack on American soil woke many people up to the fact that we were not immune to the violence or the war.
When I eventually reached the park, it was dim and looked deserted. Usually there were a few men milling about and trying not to look obvious about why they were there and a few other people who had come there simply to go to the park. Maybe everyone was as shaken up by the bombing that they were staying home with their families—which is probably exactly where I should have been if I hadn’t been so weak, I admonished myself.
Finding the park so deserted felt like another kick to my stomach. There was no way to run from or ignore my feelings at the moment, and defeated, I slumped down on a park bench by myself. I could hear the distant voices of people walking outside the park and even a few laughs. I wondered if the laughing people had heard about the bombing yet. News traveled much slower back then with no TV or Internet. It was possible to be “out of the loop” for a period of time when it came to bad news. Now it just hits you like a high-speed train throughout the day with one breaking news story after the next.
I looked up at the clear sky, and even with the city lights, some stars shone brightly.
Increasingly, I felt lonelier.
I knew I should probably be with Sally, my family, or friends instead of by myself in this deserted park in Downtown, but none of them would understand all the confused feelings I had swirling in and dominating my brain. I didn’t even understand it all.
Suddenly, I heard a loud chirping sound and felt a small but sharp peck on the top of my head.
“What the….” I started to say.
The bird loudly squawked again before diving down and pecking at my head again. I threw up my arms and waved them around to scare off my tiny attacker.
That’s when I heard a chuckle coming from across me. In the dim light I could make out another man. Back then, he would have been referred to as Oriental. He was a few inches shorter than me and about my age with short-cropped black hair, and I could see his wide smile even in this light.
“You must be near her nest. That’s why she’s attacking you. They do that sometimes. I’d move if I were you,” he said.
Quickly, I got off the bench and walked toward him, and the bird stopped attacking.
“Thanks,” I said.
As I got closer, I got a much better look at him.
He had broad shoulders that hinted at a somewhat muscular body. He wore a black knit sweater with fitted gray slacks. His cheeks had dimples when he smiled, and just his gaze on me quickened my heart. The more he came into focus, the more I saw how incredibly handsome this man looked, even bordering on the term pretty.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t help laughing,” he said, his smile growing bigger as I got closer.
I paused and continued to look at him to see if I could recognize that tell-tale look in his eyes and the possibility that he had ventured out here by himself for the same reason I did.
“That’s okay,” I said, conjuring up a small laugh on my end to appear relaxed. “I hadn’t expected to be harassed by a bird.”
He nodded and said, “Yeah, by the police maybe but not a bird.”
The police?
Even though anything resembling a real conversation had been short, I had heard from a couple of the guys I met up with at Pershing Square to keep an eye out for the police who showed up on occasion to make sure nothing happened in the bushes and grass that shouldn’t. Some men’s arrest reports ended up in the newspapers and their lives were basically ruined. One man described the arrest and beating in the park of a guy with premature salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes. I immediately recognized his description. The two of us had gone off together just a couple of nights prior.
My heart fluttered. His comment did strongly hint at something. Maybe he was here for the same reason as me.
This young man with his warm smile could help me forget….at least for a few moments. In his arms, I would be able to block out the rest of the world just long enough not to feel so low about myself. I wanted to take him to the back of my parents’ shop. I wanted to run my fingers through his black crew cut, let my hands run up and down his arms to feel his masculine torso, and pull him close to me enjoying the buildup of warmth between our bodies.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes darting around every now and then to stay aware of who was around.
“Jack,” I managed to say.
All I could think about at that moment was how badly I wanted to kiss him and taste his lips. I could now see a bit of stubble on his check that I wanted to stroke with my fingers.
“I’m Hiro,” he said. “Sounds like h-e-r-o but spelt with an ‘I’ instead of an ‘e.’ It’s Japanese.”
“Hiro,” I repeated. “Nice to meet you.”



About the Author

Michael Holloway Perronne is the author of eight books including: "A Time Before Me," "Falling Into Me", "A Time Before Us, Men Can Do Romance"  "Gardens of Hope," and"Embrace the Rain."  His debut novel, "A Time Before Me" won the BronzeAward, Foreword Magazine's Book of the Year Award in the Gay/Lesbian fiction category.  

Michael was born and raised in Mississippi.  He received a BA in Film from
the University of Southern Mississippi and a MFA in Drama and Communications from the University of New Orleans.  

He currently resides in Southern California and is working on his next novel, "The Other Side of Happy."

His recent release is Gardens of Hope.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

WEBSITE | GOODREADS | FACEBOOK

http://www.pumpupyourbook.com

 

Michael Holloway Perronne's GARDENS OF HOPE blog tour



We're happy to be hosting Michael Holloway Perronne's GARDENS OF HOPE Blog Tour today! Please leave a comment to let him know you stopped by!


Title: GARDENS OF HOPE
Author: Michael Holloway Perronne
Publisher: Chances Press
Pages: 268
Genre: Gay fiction/Historical Fiction/Historical Romance

On the surface, Jack appears to have all a man in World War II era 1941 could want with his solid middle-class background, upcoming college graduation, and the perfect, devoted fiancee. But one night when he accidentally stumbles upon a shadow life of men who desire other men in a Downtown Los Angeles park, he begins to realize exactly what has always left him with a feeling of emptiness.
Despite the constant danger of being arrested by vice cops, Jack continues to visit the park every chance he has to feel a connection, no matter how fleeting, with another man. One night he meets a handsome and charismatic Japanese-American, Hiro, who appears to want more than a quick encounter, and Jack surprises himself by starting to truly fall in love for the first time.
However, after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, President Roosevelt issues Executive Order 9066 and orders the mandatory relocation of over 100,000 Japanese-Americans, who have never been charged with a crime, to far flung internment camps sites. Jack and Hiro suddenly find themselves torn apart before their secret, fledgling romance can blossom. Desperate to find and reconnect with Hiro, Jack accepts a high school teaching position at an internment camp in the California desert, Manzanar. There, surrounded by armed guard towers and a prison-like environment, Jack begins to fully realize the injustices being faced by Japanese-Americans during one of the most controversial times of United States history and shifts his world view- forever.

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble


Book Excerpt:

kkkkk
I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my pea coat and continued to walk faster and faster toward the park, fast enough that I began to sweat even though it had turned downright cold at this point. I walked by the May Co. Christmas window displays with their Santas and snowmen and wondered how anyone could have a jolly holiday now knowing the danger that threatened us all after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Sure, we had been listening daily to the news on the radio describing bombings in Europe, but I knew that having a mass attack on American soil woke many people up to the fact that we were not immune to the violence or the war.
When I eventually reached the park, it was dim and looked deserted. Usually there were a few men milling about and trying not to look obvious about why they were there and a few other people who had come there simply to go to the park. Maybe everyone was as shaken up by the bombing that they were staying home with their families—which is probably exactly where I should have been if I hadn’t been so weak, I admonished myself.
Finding the park so deserted felt like another kick to my stomach. There was no way to run from or ignore my feelings at the moment, and defeated, I slumped down on a park bench by myself. I could hear the distant voices of people walking outside the park and even a few laughs. I wondered if the laughing people had heard about the bombing yet. News traveled much slower back then with no TV or Internet. It was possible to be “out of the loop” for a period of time when it came to bad news. Now it just hits you like a high-speed train throughout the day with one breaking news story after the next.
I looked up at the clear sky, and even with the city lights, some stars shone brightly.
Increasingly, I felt lonelier.
I knew I should probably be with Sally, my family, or friends instead of by myself in this deserted park in Downtown, but none of them would understand all the confused feelings I had swirling in and dominating my brain. I didn’t even understand it all.
Suddenly, I heard a loud chirping sound and felt a small but sharp peck on the top of my head.
“What the….” I started to say.
The bird loudly squawked again before diving down and pecking at my head again. I threw up my arms and waved them around to scare off my tiny attacker.
That’s when I heard a chuckle coming from across me. In the dim light I could make out another man. Back then, he would have been referred to as Oriental. He was a few inches shorter than me and about my age with short-cropped black hair, and I could see his wide smile even in this light.
“You must be near her nest. That’s why she’s attacking you. They do that sometimes. I’d move if I were you,” he said.
Quickly, I got off the bench and walked toward him, and the bird stopped attacking.
“Thanks,” I said.
As I got closer, I got a much better look at him.
He had broad shoulders that hinted at a somewhat muscular body. He wore a black knit sweater with fitted gray slacks. His cheeks had dimples when he smiled, and just his gaze on me quickened my heart. The more he came into focus, the more I saw how incredibly handsome this man looked, even bordering on the term pretty.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t help laughing,” he said, his smile growing bigger as I got closer.
I paused and continued to look at him to see if I could recognize that tell-tale look in his eyes and the possibility that he had ventured out here by himself for the same reason I did.
“That’s okay,” I said, conjuring up a small laugh on my end to appear relaxed. “I hadn’t expected to be harassed by a bird.”
He nodded and said, “Yeah, by the police maybe but not a bird.”
The police?
Even though anything resembling a real conversation had been short, I had heard from a couple of the guys I met up with at Pershing Square to keep an eye out for the police who showed up on occasion to make sure nothing happened in the bushes and grass that shouldn’t. Some men’s arrest reports ended up in the newspapers and their lives were basically ruined. One man described the arrest and beating in the park of a guy with premature salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes. I immediately recognized his description. The two of us had gone off together just a couple of nights prior.
My heart fluttered. His comment did strongly hint at something. Maybe he was here for the same reason as me.
This young man with his warm smile could help me forget….at least for a few moments. In his arms, I would be able to block out the rest of the world just long enough not to feel so low about myself. I wanted to take him to the back of my parents’ shop. I wanted to run my fingers through his black crew cut, let my hands run up and down his arms to feel his masculine torso, and pull him close to me enjoying the buildup of warmth between our bodies.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes darting around every now and then to stay aware of who was around.
“Jack,” I managed to say.
All I could think about at that moment was how badly I wanted to kiss him and taste his lips. I could now see a bit of stubble on his check that I wanted to stroke with my fingers.
“I’m Hiro,” he said. “Sounds like h-e-r-o but spelt with an ‘I’ instead of an ‘e.’ It’s Japanese.”
“Hiro,” I repeated. “Nice to meet you.”



About the Author

Michael Holloway Perronne is the author of eight books including: "A Time Before Me," "Falling Into Me", "A Time Before Us, Men Can Do Romance"  "Gardens of Hope," and"Embrace the Rain."  His debut novel, "A Time Before Me" won the BronzeAward, Foreword Magazine's Book of the Year Award in the Gay/Lesbian fiction category.  

Michael was born and raised in Mississippi.  He received a BA in Film from
the University of Southern Mississippi and a MFA in Drama and Communications from the University of New Orleans.  

He currently resides in Southern California and is working on his next novel, "The Other Side of Happy."

His recent release is Gardens of Hope.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

WEBSITE | GOODREADS | FACEBOOK

http://www.pumpupyourbook.com

 

Book Blitz of THE STUFF OF LEGEND by Greta van der Rol.

They say opposites attract -
if they can manage to stay alive
Book Cover
THE STUFF OF LEGEND
GRETA VAN DER ROL
Series: Ptorix Empire # 5
Genre: Science Fiction Romance, Space Opera
Publisher: Pronoun
Publication Date: January 25, 2017
When history professor Olivia Jhutta receives a distress call from her parents, she sets out into space with their business partner, her grandmother and injured Confederacy Admiral Jak Prentiss to find them. But she’s not the only one interested in the Jhutta’s whereabouts. The Helicronians believe Olivia’s parents have found an ancient weapon which they can use to wage war on the Confederacy.
Jak goes on the trip to fill in time while he’s on enforced leave, helping Olivia follow cryptic clues in what he considers an interplanetary wild goose chase in search of a fairy story. But as the journey progresses and legend begins to merge with unsettling fact, Olivia and Jak must resolve their differences and work together if they are to survive. The two are poles apart… but it’s said opposites attract. If they can manage to stay alive.
Also available for review on NetGalley. Click here.

Other Books by the Author

Don't miss the other books in the Ptorix Empire series by Greta van der Rol.
Book Cover
The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy
Series: Ptorix Empire # 1
Inter-species war looms. In a race against time, ex-admiral Saahren must convince Allysha to set aside her conflicted emotions about him to help him prevent the coming conflagration. And perhaps while he’s doing that, he’ll win back the only woman he’s ever loved.
Available FREE just about everywhere.

Giveaway

WIN
Giveaway Graphic
Contest runs from March 27 - 29, 2017.

About Greta van der Rol

Author Pic
Hi, I’m Greta van der Rol. I'm a writer, photographer, animal lover, and space nut. Most of my books are space opera with a dollop of romance - but I've written two paranormal novels featuring weretigers, and one historical fiction.
I live with my husband not far from the beach in Queensland, Australia. When I’m not writing I take photographs of nature and animals, and now and then I do some cooking.
Connect with Greta van der Rol on social media:
Tour Graphic

In partnership with
Book Unleashed

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Of Glitter and Gold: A Canary Club Anthology by Sherry D. Ficklin


Of Glitter and Gold: A Canary Club Anthology
Sherry D. Ficklin
Published by: Clean Teen Publishing
Publication date: March 27th 2017
Genres: Historical, Young Adult
Set during the flamboyant anything-goes era of 1920’s America, these three tales are filled with intriguing characters and rich imagery from the time period—with flappers, jazz music, gangsters, and lavish wealth. Escape to a different decade today with the compelling stories of the Canary Club Anthology.
Novelette 1- Gilded Cage
Masie, the flaxen-haired daughter of notorious bootlegger Dutch Schultz, returns home from boarding school to find her family in crisis. Her mother is dangerously unstable, her father’s empire is on the brink of ruin, and the boy she once loved has become a ruthless killer for hire. To keep her family’s dangerous secrets, Masie is forced into a lie that will change the course of her future—and leave her trapped in a gilded cage of her own making.
Novelette 2- All That Glitters
A dame with brains, moxie, and killer curves, June West isn’t your average flapper. She’s managed to endear herself to the son of one of the most powerful gangsters in New York, earning herself a spot in the limelight that she’s always longed for. With the infamous playboy at her side, June has become accustomed to living the high life. Lavish parties, expensive clothes, sparkling jewels—nothing is beyond her reach. But when her carefully woven web of lies finally catches up with her, she must make an impossible choice… come clean about her past and risk losing everything, or find a way to bury her demons—once and for all.
Novelette 3 – Nothing Gold
Dickey has been down on his luck since the day he was born. Flat broke and sick of being looked down on, he meets young socialite Lillian at a wild party. The connection is like a strike of lightning. From a wealthy New York family, this debutante is everything he’s been told he can never have—and the only thing he wants. Determined to win her, he knows the only way to get her parents approval is with cold hard cash. So when a shot at the biggest score of his life comes around, he just can’t refuse…
NOTHING GOLD EXCERPT:
It’s easier than I imagined to sneak into the party. The music is so loud and the crowd so enormous that no one sees me wind my way through the shrubs on the outskirts. The massive estate is far enough away from the city that I had to hitch a ride to get here, and I’ll have to time my exit just right to make the train back to Manhattan.
Brushing off my secondhand suit coat, I enter the party via the back patio. A wide pool is filled with people, most still in their fancy evening wear. My eyes slide past them, searching for the one person at this shindig that I know. I scan past butlers with white gloves holding silver trays covered in champagne glasses, past gleeful dames in short skirts with blood-red lips, and past gents in their glad rags I can tell with one glance cost more dough than I make in a year working at the mill.
When I finally see him, his pinstripe suit, matching fedora, and red pocket square, he’s standing atop the massive staircase on the ledge overlooking the party. Deacon Brewer, the reason I’m here tonight. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his trousers as he chats up a fella I don’t recognize, along with the dame hanging off his arm. Plastering on an easy grin, I wind my way through the people, helping myself to a glass of bubbly as I head for the stairs. The stone steps are covered in gold confetti, the whole place practically dripping with it. Long, red velvet drapes hang from arched windows, and leafless branches painted gold and draped with crystal beads sit in tall vases in every corner. Nothing has been left un-gilded.
I shake my head at the audacity. Might as well have a neon sign—someone, please rob the joint.
Deacon sees me coming and dismisses himself from his conversation, welcoming me with an open hand.
“Dickey Lewis, glad you could make it, boy,” he offers warmly.
As if I had a choice.
“Of course, Mr. Brewer,” I respond with more warmth than I feel. Truth is that I’m in deep to Deacon after a few bad bets at his club last month, and he opted to make me work it off rather than take it outta my hide. I suppose that makes him clever, but I can’t help the gnawing feeling that this is a debt I may never fully repay. “What’s the score?” I ask, lowering my voice.
Draping an arm across my shoulders, he walks me through the glass doors and into the house. Still crammed with people drinking, dancing, and generally wrecking the joint, he pulls a cigar from his vest pocket with his free hand.
“Upstairs in the den is a lovely Monet, behind which is a very large safe. Cash, some baubles, and a bankbook are inside. I don’t care about the rest; you take what you need. But the bankbook needs to find its way into my hands tomorrow morning by eight am.”
I take a deep breath, rolling my tongue over my teeth before answering, “How am I supposed to get into the safe?”
He barks a deep laugh, slapping me on the back. “Guess you’ll have to get a little creative. Just get in, get out, and don’t let nobody see ya, got it?”
All I can do is nod and watch him swagger away. Sure, I’ve boosted loot before, but always simple jobs, smash and grabs. Nothing like this. What have I gotten myself into this time?
Still, whatever else is in there is mine for the taking, I tell myself. Could be a big pay day, judging by the looks of the place.
I wander casually through the house, trying to look as if I belong while also counting the number of cops and guards watching the area. It’s not as many as I expected. I grab a dark-haired dame by the waist, offering her a charming smile and asking for a dance. We Charleston together for two songs, finally stopping to imbibe more champagne. When I ‘accidently’ stumble into her, she spills the contents of her glass on my jacket, fumbling a wide-eyed apology.
Waving her off with a smile, I hand her my glass, “You take this, and I’ll go find a place to wash up.”
“You could always take a dip in the pool, honey,” she says, batting her eyelashes.
Beside her, a gentleman points up a secondary set of stairs near the front door. “Washroom is up there, I think.”
I mutter a thanks and a promise to return, then make my way up the stairs, continuing to stumble around as if drunk, occasionally opening a door to find a couple necking or a room full of folks smoking the Indian hop in long pipes.
Finally, the thumping of the music fading below me, I make my way to the library. Beyond that, I find the only locked door on the entire floor. Digging into my pocket, I pull out my lock kit, a simple flattened iron jimmy and a hooked pick. Sliding both in the lock, I slide them back and forth, listening for the mechanism inside to release. It doesn’t take long and the door springs open, allowing me to step inside and close it quickly behind me. It’s dark except for the glow of a single lamp atop a massive oak desk, behind which is a tall arched window overlooking the front of the estate. From this spot, I can see the cars lined up along the circular drive, partygoers coming and going in wild abandon. Pulling the pocket watch from my vest, I wipe my fingers across the cracked glass face, checking the time. Only thirty minutes until the train. If I miss it, it’ll be two hours before the next one. Not the end of the world, unless someone notices the lift before I’m gone. That’s a long time to stick around with a pocket fulla stolen goods.
I glance around me, the blood chilling in my veins. Every wall except the one with the window is covered in framed paintings. And I have no idea which one is a Monet.
Scrambling, I begin lifting each, checking the wall behind for any sign of the safe. Finally, on the opposite wall from where I started, I find it. Carefully lifting the heavy canvas free, I set it on the floor and turn my attention to the wall safe. It’s not large, about the size of a bread box with a spinning combination dial in the center. Unsure what else to do, I pull the pocket knife free from my trousers and flick it open, trying to wedge it between the door and the frame. As soon as I do, I know it’s going to be futile. The thing is heavy steel; no way my knife is gonna bust it open. Putting it away, I begin spinning the dial at random, praying I’ll get lucky.
I’m so flustered I don’t hear the door open or the footsteps from behind me until it’s too late.
“It’s my birthday,” a voice offers, making me spin, hands balled into fists to fight my way free from the room.
The dame is tall, her garnet-red hair rolled into bouncy curls and pinned in a messy heap at the back of her neck. Her dress is green, almost the same color as her eyes, and it hugs her slender frame as if it were a second skin. Even the long strings of pearls twined around her neck seems completely natural, not just a decoration but an extension of her. I take a breath, blinking, momentarily stunned. She drapes one hand on her hip, her entire body listing to the side as she points to the safe.
“The combination,” she repeats. “It’s my birthday.”
Finally recovering my voice, I stammer. “I was, uh, just…”
The corners of her mouth turn upward. “Breaking into my father’s safe?”
I don’t know what to say. I feel her in the room, the way one might feel the air change right before a storm, a heaviness that settles in, leaving my soul with a sense of foreboding. My instincts battle inside me. Do I grab her and tie her to a chair, or do I flee? The weight of her gaze makes it impossible to think clearly.
“Relax,” she says, raising a glass I hadn’t noticed her holding to her lips and taking a slow drink. “I’m not calling the guards if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh? You’re just gonna let me crack this safe and walk away with whatever’s inside?”
She shrugs. “It’s not my money. What do I care?”
I lick my lips, sizing her up. A spoiled little rich girl who wants to stick it to Daddy. I’ve seen a few of those in my day. I can work with this—if I can get my head back on straight. It’s not like me to get so flustered by a dame, not even a high-quality one like this.
“Besides…” She sets the glass on the desk and saunters toward me. “It’s not like we don’t have enough.”
I catch a hint of her perfume in the air when she brushes by me, lavender and something else I can’t quite place. Taking the dial in her hand, she spins the knob until the door finally clicks, then she steps back, giving me a go-ahead gesture.
I hesitate, flicking glances at the bare skin where her neck meets her shoulder, at the creamy whiteness of her skin, before settling my eyes on her face. “What’s your name, doll?”
She looks down, sheepishly at first, but then raises just her eyes to look at me with an expression of bold defiance. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
I swallow, considering her offer. She’s already gotten a good look at me, enough to rat me out to the cops. The look on her face is one of challenge, I realize. She’s daring me to trust her.
“Dickey,” I say, pulling the flat cap off my head and holding it over my heart as I bow to her. “Dickey Lewis, at your service, Miss?”
“Lillian Rose Duke,” she answers. “But my friends call me Lilly.”
Replacing my hat, I grab the safe handle and twist, pulling open the heavy door. Grabbing a large wooden box first, I hold it out to her. Moving back, I grab two stacks of fresh bills and stuff them in the pockets of my suitcoat. Finding the bankbook last, I tuck it into the back of my pants before pulling my shirt and jacket over it.
I spin to Lilly, watching as she upends the box, spilling jewelry onto the desk in a pile. She picks through it, finally just scooping it all into her hand and sauntering over to me. Getting so close I feel the warmth of her, she grabs the lapel of my jacket, sliding the gold and stones into the inside pocket.
“Give these to your girl, Dickey Lewis.”
She releases my lapel, but doesn’t step away. Instead, she leans forward. Thinking she’s going to kiss me, I straighten in anticipation, but she just trails her fingers along my collar until she’s cupping the back of my neck.
“I ain’t got no girl,” I admit, my heart pounding behind my ribs.
“Well, isn’t that a shame?” she says, her lips a hair’s breadth from mine.
Unable to resist, I close the final distance between us, clutching her by the waist as I urge her lips to mine. I’ve never tasted gold before, but I imagine this is what it would be like—champagne, honey, and nerves of steel. When she finally pulls away, I’m gasping. Tugging tugs the white linen handkerchief from my pocket, she wipes my face, then hers, of her smeared lipstick before returning the hankie to its place.
“I hope to see you around, Dickey Lewis.”
With that, she spins on her heel and heads for the door, listening for a moment before pulling it open and stepping out. The room is instantly colder, the air thinner. I can finally breathe, can think.
As I slink from the party and disappear into the shadows, making my way down the street to the train station, I can’t force the sight of her from my mind, or the taste of her from my lips.
Even if it takes every penny in my pocket and every breath in my body, I will see Lillian Rose Duke again.


Author Bio:
Sherry D. Ficklin is a full time writer from Colorado where she lives with her husband, four kids, two dogs, and a fluctuating number of chickens and house guests. A former military brat, she loves to travel and meet new people. She can often be found browsing her local bookstore with a large white hot chocolate in one hand and a towering stack of books in the other. That is, unless she’s on deadline at which time she, like the Loch Ness monster, is only seen in blurry photographs.

XBTBanner1

C.D. Tuttle - Kane Moss - PROMO Blitz




Western
 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Kane Moss, a rather large, easygoing cowboy who would prefer to be left alone, finds himself leading a small posse on a bloody trail of reckoning.

Their remote Wyoming mountain village burned and pillaged by a murderous gang they are charged by their elders to find the gang and take their retribution. Little did they know that their pursuit would take them from their small mountain village to Ojinaga, Mexico. Kane Moss is no stranger to trouble. He has travelled a considerable part of the West riding shotgun on stages and participating in posses hunting for stage robbers. He has a strong code of honor learned from his upbringing and tries to do right. Sometimes na├»ve in trusting others he makes blunders, but always manages to come out on top. His determination is one to be reckoned with. Klatchard Bordiaz, leader of the murderous gang is a man full of hatred and contempt for anyone who has earned a decent life. He is intemperate and unrestrained having viciously killed his first man at the age of fourteen. He commands a large gang of murderers and thieves known as the Klatch Gang. On their way back to Ojinaga from a cattle drive to Montana they attack a small mountain village in the Medicine Bow Mountains of Wyoming Territory. Burning, raping and plundering the residents of this unsuspecting mountain village they stir up a hornet’s nest of angry mountain folks who are unforgiving when done wrong.

Among Kane’s posse is a young woman, Sarah Jane, who lost a brother and sister in the raid on their village. She is a determined woman and will be put down by no man. Nothing will stand in the way of her seeking revenge on the Klatch gang.

Sometimes humorous and rollicking, at other times deadly serious, their determination never fades. Through false leads, blunders and marauding Indians they manage to catch up to the raiders in the lawless village of Ojinaga. Here they find they are also up against the Mexican Rurales. The odds of success are overwhelmingly against them as Kane Moss and his small posse faces the intemperate and cold-blooded Klatchard Bordiaz, a much-feared vicious killer and gang leader.


About the Author


C. D. Tuttle was born and raised in Central Oklahoma. Through learning from his great grandmother, who was in the Oklahoma land rush of 1891, and the experiences of his father, he developed a passionate interest in the old West. He spent his formative years on a farm in Lincoln County, Oklahoma. Well educated in the sciences, he spent his professional life as a geologist, zoologist and naturalist. Throughout his travels to wild places around the world, he never lost touch with his Western upbringing. He has resided on the western slope of Colorado for the past 20 years.

Contact Links



Purchase Links


 photo readingaddictionbutton_zps58fd99d6.png