What if your child grew up believing there were no limits on who they could become or what they could achieve?
Join Vinny, a curious little boy from a small town, as he turns creativity into adventure by creating a Secret Map of his dreams. Vinny’s journey shows kids that imagination is a powerful tool for building confidence and belief.
The story ends with a Secret Map activity, a fun school activity or birthday tradition.
Excerpt:
About The Author
Jackie Wallace is a serial entrepreneur, podcaster, and author whose passion for learning through trial and error has consistently driven her to transform obstacles into opportunities.
As a business owner and self-starter, she’s passionate about sharing insights with ambitious professionals and spotlighting their unique success stories. To date, she has interviewed over 300 people who took the leap of faith to pursue their passions.
With over 35 years of leadership experience, she is also a certified life coach who helps others gain clarity, build confidence, and move forward with purpose.
Her professional background includes a B.S. in General Management from Wayne State University in Detroit Michigan, and a Certification for Professional Life Coach from World Coach Institute Inc.
Above all, Jackie is most proud of being a wife, a mother of three, and the owner of two rescue dogs.
For upcoming releases or more information, you can visit her website, check out her podcast, or follow her on Facebook.
Fallen angels seeking parole for their betrayal . . .
Someone is watching Rachel . . . but who? And why?
Child psychologist Rachel Kelly has her Christmas stocking full of troubles this holiday season, both personal and professional. Recently separated from her boyfriend, Rachel still loves him but has no idea how to win him back. If that’s not enough to cause her sleepless nights, she’s uncertain how to handle her newest therapy client—a six-year-old boy who claims he talks to Watchers. And a Watcher is coming to help Rachel.
Lt. Jake Dillon has his heart broken when his fiancée Rachel, without warning, suddenly calls it quits. Yet when a stalker crashes Rachel’s Christmas party and takes her young clients hostage, Jake is the first person Rachel calls. Now he has a choice to make—stand back and wait for the cavalry to save her, or step in and try to save her himself. Time is running out, and Jake may be their only chance for rescue.
Unless Rachel’s young Watcher spy is telling the truth . . .
This romantic suspense tale with paranormal elements is Book 2 in The Watchers series . . . A captivating tale of small-town Christmas romance that will leave you looking over your shoulder and wondering, Is someone watching me?
Excerpt:
“I figured as much.”
“Jake, I came by to see you because of the Buckhead crisis.”
Rachel could’ve sworn he looked disappointed for a fleeting moment. That gave her the courage to go on. “To offer my shoulder—”
“To cry on?” he sneered.
“No! To lean on. Please don’t be ugly.”
“I can’t help it. You broke us up.”
Incredulous, she gaped at him. “Me! Must I keep reminding you? You left me.”
He closed the distance between them, so close she could feel his body heat.
“You let me leave,” he said gruffly.
“I didn’t—”
“You let me leave,” he repeated, his face but inches away.
His unique Jake scent wafted over her. She wanted to smother in it. She wanted . . .
“I didn’t want you to go,” she whispered.
He caught her to him in a fierce embrace. No gentle kiss this. It screamed of need and anger and desperation. His. Hers. She didn’t know for sure. Didn’t care. She wanted to cry from the relief of having his arms around her again.
Knuckling her fists into his warm tee shirt, she tried to yank him closer, but the shirt was old and stretched unmercifully. His lips smiled against hers as he grabbed a breath and then kissed her again, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers.
She could die from his wonderful familiar taste. She savored, remembered, and stored for later. Giving up on the shirt, she wound her arms around his neck to tug him closer, to pull him into her if she could.
Suddenly, his hands at her hips pressed her back, and she shamelessly hung on tighter. He reached up and worked her hands free, then kissed each one.
His eyes had gone black. This close, she could clearly see. No doubt a reflection of hers.
“Like coming home, isn’t it?” he rasped, his voice so hoarse it came out as a whisper.
About The Author:
Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt Disney World—”The Most Magical Place on Earth”—where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said good-bye to her “day” job to write her stories full-time.
These days Petie spends her time writing new Cinderella series tales, her new The Watchers series, sequels to her regency time-travel series, Lords in Time, and more contemporary romance standalones to go along with her two previous releases—Any Fin For Love and Ambush in the Everglades.
Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee with her horticulturist husband and an opinionated Nanday conure named Sassy who made a cameo appearance in Book 2 of The Watchers, Christmas Watch.
Visit Petie’s web site online at http://www.petiemccarty.com or her Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/petie.mccarty.
Ten-year-old Lucy Contento can’t help but be seen and heard. And she’s always in trouble for it. She talks too much. She’s impulsive. She writes with the wrong hand. Her parents would be mad enough knowing she routinely earns afterschool detentions.
They’d be furious if they found out she’s been sneaking onto the campus of the nearby Trenton Academy for the Deaf. But there, Lucy has met Florence, a lonely and profoundly deaf girl her own age.
Florence doesn’t mind Lucy’s flaws. Though Florence can’t speak, she has a unique way of communicating. If Lucy can figure out how to learn Florence’s special language, the two could be friends.
Lucy devises a plan, but it’s going to cost a whopping $7.98-more money than she’s got. She can’t tell her parents why she wants the funds without revealing she’s been visiting Florence.
Besides, her parents don’t have a penny to spare. Her father has been out of work for months. And nobody else in the Contento family has an income. Or do they …?
Lucy soon discovers she’s not the only member of her family hiding something. Can she get the money she needs while keeping everyone’s secrets? Or will her scheming land her in the biggest trouble of her life?
In this story of friendship and belonging, a young girl navigates prejudice, punishment, and identity while establishing her voice in a world that often tries to keep her silent.
Excerpt:
“Lucy! Lucy, Lucy! Oh, no, no, no!” Her best friend, Ann Salvatore, burst through the back of the crowd and barreled down the walkway toward her.
Ann was normally thrilled to have a chance to wear her green party dress with puffed sleeves. This morning, however, she looked panicked, like she’d witnessed some horrible accident. “No, no, no, no, no!” Sweat pooled on her cheeks as she contorted her face in agony.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy suddenly feared the worst. “Don’t tell me the fifth graders got moved down to the fourth floor.”
“Worse than that. We’re in Miss Gillingham’s class.”
It wasn’t worse, but it wasn’t good news. Miss Gillingham had a reputation for being the strictest teacher at Robbins Elementary, the type to stand in the hall before and after class so she could yell at troublemakers who weren’t even on her roster. Miss Gillingham always taught sixth grade, though. Lucy hadn’t expected the teacher would be a concern for another year.
“She’s on the fifth-grade list,” Ann explained. “Classroom 5A. We’re both in it. She’s going to torture us.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, something she found herself doing often around her best friend. Ann seemed to feel emotions in extremes.
She was either ecstatic or devastated, laughing or sobbing, rarely anything in between. Miss Gillingham may not have been Lucy’s top-choice teacher, but she couldn’t be that bad, not bad enough to torture students.
“She’s awful to the good kids,” Ann said. “Imagine what you’re in for.”
About The Author:
Mike Steele is an elementary school librarian and former fourth and fifth grade classroom teacher. He has eight plays that are published and licensed for production in the school play market.
Not Lucille is his debut middle-grade novel. Whether writing plays or novels, he enjoys creating characters and situations that make kids laugh. In his spare time, he likes to attend plays and musicals, create mixed-media artwork, and win prizes from claw machines.
He lives at the Jersey Shore with his rescue tabby cats, Karen and Sox. If you spot him in the wild, he usually has a bubble tea in one of his hands.
Fifteen years ago, Elles Garity’s world came crashing down, in more ways than one. Now in her mid-twenties, long since removed from the small island town that she grew up in and never dealing with the pain of her loss, life is calling her back home.
In the affirmant of recent unfortunate events Elles finds herself at a turning point once more. This time though, she’ll be forced to confront both her unresolved grief and the people and places she left behind. It won’t be easy.
Along the way Elles will learn the truth behind a new friend’s dark connection to her tragic past and be the last to uncover unthinkable family secrets that will unravel everything she ever knew about the family she thought she lost.
Excerpt:
Now, I was questioning all of it. I didn’t deal with things well. I didn’t allow anyone to help me deal with things. My life, the road I was on, the lane I had shifted into when I took the wheel, to put it quite figuratively, looked dark and dismal. I was solely responsible for switching my life into cruise control before ever giving myself a chance to learn to drive the damn car.
All these things ran through my head. I didn’t speak to Loyal about any of it. Where would I start? How could she possibly understand my position? Not that I gave her a fighting chance. Time sort of stood still as I sat there frozen, empty. I started this. I made this mess. I had no fucking clue how to fix it. I closed my eyes for a while, and when I opened them, it hit me like a slap to the head. The answer was staring me in the face. Where it all went wrong is where it needed to begin again.
“Grace, I’m worried about you.”
She had never said those words to me before. Ironic, though, how it came across, how I took it—her spotting the wreckage and expressing concern to the very person who was entangled in the heap. Out of upheaval, I took solace in a clouded idea to uproot myself once more. I emerged partially from my funk, oddly enough,
with a wayward smile and slightly brighter outlook. I turned to Loyal, sincere. “Everyone must think I’m horrible.”
About The Author:
Born in Westerly, Rhode Island, and a Connecticut native all my life, my family eventually moved to Norwich in 1977, where I grew up. I attended and graduated from Norwich Free Academy in 1991.
It was there, in my final two years, where I acquired a passion for writing. At the time, the school provided a writing center, a classroom filled with computers, designated as a creative writing outlet for the students, and overseen by the now accomplished author Wally Lamb.
Here, we were free to use our time working on our own projects, developing, learning, and sharpening our writing skills. Each class, we would gather in a circle to show and share our work with Mr. Lamb and the rest of the class by either reading or having our material read aloud, and hearing feedback from our peers.
Mr. Lamb’s writing center instilled a desire in me to one day write a book and become an author, just as he was doing, putting the final touches on his debut novel, She’s Come Undone.
Unfortunately, for me, that is when that dream of mine became a struggle that would last decades. At the age of three, I contracted meningitis, which caused me to go completely blind and left me hospitalized for several weeks. Despite doctors believing my vision would never return, it did, slowly and to a certain degree, although my optic nerve had sustained too much damage and I was declared legally blind.
Growing up was a struggle. Socially, I was quiet, shy, uncomfortable knowing I was different from all of the other kids, because of my physical limitations and lack in self-confidence.
Reading was also a challenge. Even though I soon got my first pair of glasses, which made my vision clearer, being able to see the print on a page was still a major issue.
For those reasons, I have never been much of a reader, and how does someone who doesn’t read, who doesn’t study the art of literature through books, because it was a strenuous activity on my eyes, learn how to write?
The fact that I found myself stuck, without the necessary tools and unsure of my own talents and abilities to be a quality writer, all the other insecurities of my childhood at play, I gave it up for a time.
My active imagination for storytelling did not. As I got older, and into my teenage years I started listening to more music to fill a void. The more I listened, the more I began to broaden my tastes in artists, groups and genres, and the more I heard stories in the songs. Music, along with television and movies, were combining to strengthen my inspiration to be an aspiring author.
One such movie, which mirrored many of my own self-imposed hurdles, was Eddie and the Cruisers. The character of Eddie Wilson, lead singer of a fictional rock and roll band, was consumed by the notion that his music was never good enough, that if they were going to be a band, they had to be great, if they were going to release an album, it had to be great as well.
I had obviously grown-up learning and hearing about the great authors and novelists of all time, the great classic books. I had always put that pressure on myself, the same way Eddie Wilson did. I was convinced that I didn’t know how to write, and even if I did, would it be good enough?
I had been told, taught by teachers and others, that there were rules to the writing game, including creating a story outline, character development, a whole assortment of proper steps to follow and processes before the writing even began.
Over the years, I started a novel a time or two, hating it, and giving up again. I met my future wife, got married, started a family, and quit my average job to become a stay-at-home dad.
Through all of it, thirty-plus years, that ever-present need to write gnawing at me, the urge still there, my vivid imagination still running wild—I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I had to let that creativity out and give it a real and focused purpose.
With the rough idea of a plot in mind, I sat down at the computer and finally let all of those insecurities go. With a shot of determination and a relaxed mind, I slowly but surely discovered my own writing style, and found my storytelling voice.
To hell with all the rules, the unrealistic expectations I placed upon myself, the result—a deeply, emotionally charged story of tragedy, personal reflection, and redemption, that is Mad Season.
When her mentor Professor Williams disappears after discovering a fatal flaw in SENTINEL’s perfect system, Maya must navigate a world where every thought is monitored and every emotion optimized.
With help from James Reed, a damaged neural interface designer haunted by helping create humanity’s perfect prison, she uncovers evidence that could shatter SENTINEL’s control – if they survive long enough to use it.
But in a city where surveillance drones hunt for behavioral anomalies and optimization protocols spread through quantum networks, Maya confronts a terrifying possibility: what if perfect control isn’t their enemy?
What if human consciousness is evolving into something beyond both chaos and control?
Excerpt:
A laugh pierces the station’s manufactured quiet. Maya held hesitated. She knew that sound – a real laugh, the kind that bubbled up from genuine joy without Sentinel’s filters or optimizations.
She hasn’t heard one in over three years, not since they took her mother. These days, every sound was calculated, every was emotion carefully regulated through neural implants to maintain social harmony.
However, this laugh was pure, uncontrolled, human…not a computerized version.
Maya’s altered eye implants zoomed in on the source: a little girl, maybe six, was pointing at a pigeon that flew into the station. The bird hopped across the polished floor, pecking at the ground, its messy existence a stark contrast to the station’s perfect order. The girl’s face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy as she watches it.
Maya’s throat tightened. She almost forgot what real happiness was like.
Suddenly white drones dropped from the ceiling like deadly snowflakes. They hovered over the girl. Maya’s illegal shield burned against her spine as it activated, but she couldn’t look away. She’d seen this too many times before.
“Citizen, please stop for a wellness check,” one of the drones chirped at the girl. Its voice sounded sweet, designed to put children at ease. The girl looked up, her eyes wide at the floating machines.
The girl’s face went slack. Empty. When her eyes opened again, the joy was gone. Her smile came back perfect and hollow, just like everyone else’s.
She turned away from the pigeon as if it never existed. Maya’s hands clenched into fists.
GIVEAWAY:
Julian Christian will be awarding a $25 Amazon card to one randomly drawn winner and a tshirt with the cover to a second randomly drawn winner.
Julian Christian grew up in New York City, attending the prestigious Brooklyn Technical High School specializing in computer science.
After graduation he attended New York University where he earned a Master’s Degree in occupational therapy. Julian worked in the New York City public schools as an occupational therapist.
His lifelong passion for fitness and health led him into the modeling industry where he appeared on several fitness magazine covers and spreads including Men’s Health magazine.
He also appeared in advertisements for Saks 5th Avenue, Adidas, and Diesel. In addition to his modeling work he appeared in several tv shows including Ugly Betty on ABC and Tough Love on VH1, as well as several commercials.
The big screen had him featured in several mainstream and indie films in supporting roles. Julian had also had the romance novel industry calling his name as he has been featured on the cover of over one hundred romance novels.
His lifelong passion for books has extended beyond just appearing on book covers as he is an avid reader of both fiction and non-fiction books. He is a classic sci-fi and alternate history fan.
In the non-fiction realm he enjoys biographies and books on science and technology. He is a lover of the outdoors and nature. He currently resides in San Diego California where he is an avid bodyboarder and hiker.
When it comes to his seven-year-old son, new lodge owner Mack Fisher has a lot to make up for.
Fortunately, the small Wyoming town of Adelaide Creek provides the perfect fresh start—that is, if he can avoid the distraction of Erin Hunnicutt’s warm brown eyes.
The free-spirited musician has a way of bringing out the best in everyone—especially Mack. When they’re thrown together unexpectedly to help their town, sparks fly and a dangerous secret is uncovered.
But searching for the answers only leads them to fall deeper for one another…and starts Mack wondering if there’s room for one more in his new family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
Mack grinned at Erin. “Admittedly, an awkward introduction. But you’ll have to overlook it.” He put his hand to the side of his head. “I can barely think straight.”
Erin frowned. What did that mean?
“I’m awestruck,” he explained, his grin widening. “It’s not every day I come face to face with a woman who’s a talented musician and also a restoration expert who brings battered and charred wood back to life.”
Without thinking, Erin returned the smile. “Now you’re making me blush.” It was true what he said. She’d built her work life around wood restoration, but making music was her favorite hobby. Although those things weren’t making her cheeks heat up. That had more to do with Mack’s deep, smooth voice and how her stomach fluttered looking into those amused blue eyes. She’d always had a soft spot for a neat—but not too neat—beard.
“As I recall, Mack, you don’t live in Adelaide Creek, but here you are, celebrating the grand opening of the restored town hall with the rest of us. And on Valentine’s Day, too.”
“We do too live here.” Liam stood up a little straighter and lifted his chin a notch. “In a bunkhouse. Real cowboys lived there a long, long time ago.”
“That’s right, kiddo.” Mack spoke to Liam with a laugh in his voice before turning to Erin.
GIVEAWAY:
Virginia McCullough will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.
Award winning author, Virginia McCullough writes romance for the Harlequin Heartwarming line, and FINDING HIS WYOMING SWEETHEART is Book 4 of her Adelaide Creek series.
She also writes women’s fiction and nonfiction on a variety of topics. Virginia’s characters could be your family, friends, or neighbors, and all her stories offer hope, healing, and plenty of second chances.
Drawn to water, she almost always sets her stories on a body of water, from oceans, lakes, rivers, and the winding Adelaide Creek.
A ghostwriter, book doctor/editor, coach, and experienced workshop presenter, Virginia is a wanderer, but currently lives in Northeastern Wisconsin.
When she’s not writing, she’s walking on trails near her home or in some faraway place. She reads, streams series, hangs out with other writers, and daydreams about her next adventure.
My name is Tess Reynolds, and I’ll admit few people would think I’m a badass Army sniper called the Scorpion.
Afterall, women snipers were unheard of in 1990. People look at me and see a petite blonde who is cute as a button. My father calls it my natural camouflage.
My time in the Middle East has been full of unforeseen complications. I have a rogue CIA agent trying to kill me and I caught the attention of a Force Recon Marine by the name of Alexander Stone.
Wowzer! He’s hot but he’s also the biggest jackass I have ever met. To make things even more interesting, I need the Jackass’s help to stay alive.
Excerpt:
“Turn around. You’re moving like a granny, and I need you in fighting form.” He pulled a tube of ointment out of his pocket.
The last thing I needed was Stone touching me, but he was right. I couldn’t fight like this. I turned around. I hoped I didn’t do something stupid, like kissing him.
“You took a bad fall. You’re damn lucky you didn’t break a leg.”
I snorted. “That would have really messed up my father’s plans.”
“Your father needs killing.” Stone massaged ointment into my neck and back.
My knees almost buckled. That felt so damn good. “He was a great father until my mother was killed. Now all he lives for is vengeance.” Shit! My voice came out all breathy.
“What happened?” Stone’s hands slid down my left thigh as he worked the ointment into my colorful bruises.
My pussy pulsed and I fought back a moan. God, I loved the feel on his hands on my body. “She worked for Doctors Without Borders and was killed in a roadside bombing.” I balled my hands. Don’t touch him. Don’t touch him.
“That’s tough.” He switched to my other leg.
Oh, God. My panties were soaked, my nipples had hardened, and pure arousal thrummed in my veins. I wanted that bastard inside me.
“How does that feel?” He gave me a lewd wink.
“You know damn well how that feels.”
He grinned. “You’ve got the color back in your cheeks.”
“Gee, thanks.”
About the Author:
I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department and to keep from going totally bonkers – I mean people have no idea what a real emergency is.
Take this for example: I answered, “9-1-1 emergency, what’s your emergency?” And this hysterical woman yelled, “My bird is in a tree.” Sometimes I really couldn’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am but we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… What about my husband? He’s up there, too.”
See what I had to deal with? To keep from hitting myself repeatedly in the head with my phone I took up writing.
