Review ~ Quill & Ink Book Tours Presents Amulet: Heart's True Desire by Kathryn Amurra

 

Amulet

Heart's True Desire Book 1

By

Kathryn Amurra

General Information:

Title: Amulet

Author:  Kathryn Amurra

Series Info:  Book 1 - Heart’s True Desire series

Genre:  Contemporary Romance with Mystical Elements / Paranormal Romance

Time and setting:  Present day, Southeastern U.S. & Israel

Publisher:  The Wild Rose Press

Publication Date:  April 3, 2024

Synopsis:

Intelligent, charismatic, and successful, Val Nikolov has achieved everything he’s ever wanted, thanks to a wish made on his grandmother’s magical amulet. 

Alex Weaver, however, can’t seem to get her life in order. As a temp-agency lawyer helping Val’s company prepare to be acquired, Alex has no hope that she will ever land a full-time job as an attorney (or convince her boyfriend to marry her). 

When one of Val’s key engineers abruptly departs, the acquisition is suddenly at risk. Hoping to salvage the deal, Val asks Alex to travel with him to Israel for a meeting with the decision-makers. The more time Val and Alex spend together, however, the more they question the things they thought were most important in their lives. Soon, they find themselves at a crossroads, having to choose between the lives they’ve always wished for and their hearts’ true desire.

Excerpt:

Val opened the passenger side door for her, silently grateful for having just cleaned the interior.

Thanking him, Alex got into the front seat. He couldn’t help noticing as Alex’s coat parted at the bottom and her skirt slid a couple of inches up her thighs in the process.

He shut the door before she could realize where his eyes and thoughts had been and went around to the driver’s side.

“I’ll try not to breathe too much on the short ride over to your parking lot,” he said, starting the car. “I’d hate it if I got you sick.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got a pretty robust immune system. Plus, if I’m choosing between catching a cold and dying in a fiery car crash because you held your breath and passed out, I think I’d choose the former.”

Val laughed. “It’s always good to put things into perspective.”

He reached over to the stick shift and put the car in reverse. It was only after grasping the shifter that he sensed how close his hand was to Alex’s left knee. Indulging himself, Val glanced at her face in profile as he turned his body to look behind them and backed out of the parking spot. She was looking down at her lap and trying to adjust her coat.

Val shifted again, driving toward the exit. Alex was quiet, and he hoped she wasn’t uncomfortable sitting next to him. After their dinner and a pleasant conversation, she couldn’t possibly be worried that he was trying to put the moves on her, could she?

“We’ll have to see about getting you a parking spot in the building. I’ll talk to Judy about it tomorrow.”

Alex looked over at him. “That’s really nice of you, but I can’t afford to park here. It’s more than twice as expensive as the lot I’m in right now, and I can hardly afford that.”

Val knew that contract attorneys made less than in-house counsel or attorneys in big law firms, but he was curious how much less. “What are they paying you at Advance Legal?”

“Thirty dollars an hour.”

He was quiet for a moment. “They’re making a killing on you, you know. I should have hired you directly—you could have made more money, and I could have spent less money. Anyway, don’t worry about the cost. The company will pay for your parking.”

The unexpected offer had her eyes widening in surprise. “I can’t ask you to do that!”

“You’re not. It’s a business decision that I’m making. Look, it’s going to be crazy the next few weeks with this deal. I might need you to come in extra early on some days and stay late on others. And the days are short this time of year. I can’t be worrying about the seven-block walk you have to make to your car in the dark every night.”

Alex pressed her lips into a straight line, and even relying only on peripheral vision, Val could tell she was skeptical. “So, you’re saying I’d be doing you a favor by allowing the company to pay exorbitant amounts of money for me to park in the building.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said the words, and he wished he could take his eyes off the road for more than just a moment to see it.

“Yes, that’s exactly right.”

Sighing, Alex relented. “All right, then. I’ll do it. For the company.”

He laughed. “You might just get employee of the month at this rate.”

 

Oh my, you will need five teacups filled to the brim for this lovely tale! This is my first of Kathryn Amurra’s books and I’m just blown away. The story of Val and Alex is so sweet and the scenery throughout the tale makes you feel as if you are there. But most of all the whole way through you are rooting for Val and Alex and the love that blossoms between them. I especially could relate to Alex, she’s a down-to-earth young woman with a deep passion, and yet her career is being stifled by the love she feels for her boyfriend, but it isn’t true love. She finally knows what love is when she meets Val, and he recognizes her intellect and talents and allows them to shine. Then, who wouldn’t want a man like Val, so kind, caring, and yet so highly successful. He’s a go-getter and yet does not have a single arrogant bone in his body. He’s the perfect match for Alex.  I seriously could not put this book down. Such a sweet romance with splashes of magic throughout. I highly recommend this tale! 

Praise for Amulet:

“Kathryn Amurra’s Amulet is an absorbing tale of re-evaluating what’s important in life, of choices between what one has always wished for versus one’s true heart’s desires, and discovering that magic comes in many forms. Thoroughly enjoyed this enchanting story!”

—Joy Allyson, Author of Whiskey Love (Published by The Wild Rose Press)

“I loved it! I was speed-reading near the end—so anxious to see how the romance worked out! What a great ending! I look forward to more in this series.”

—Kel O’Connor, Author of The DAG Series

“For anyone who loves clean, contemporary romance with a hint of magic! Kathryn Amurra writes a story that will appeal to readers who enjoy contemporary romance combined with just the right dash of magic to their stories! She spins an engaging tale of a family heirloom that grants whoever possesses it their greatest wish.”

—Leanne Davis, Author of the River’s End Series

 

Author Bio:

Kathryn Amurra is the author of sweet and sensual love stories. Her debut series, Soothsayer's Path, is a historical romance series of standalone books set in Ancient Rome around 115 CE. Her new series, Heart’s True Desire, is a paranormal romance series of standalone books published through The Wild Rose Press. Kathryn has been making up stories for as long as she can remember and writing since grade school. Against the advice of her 12^th grade English teacher, she studied Mechanical Engineering in college, then worked as an Engineer for a few years. After finding and marrying her own hero, she and her hubby went to law school together. They currently live in North Carolina with their three girls.

 

Contact The Author:

Email - kathrynamurra@gmail.com

Website & Newsletter Sign-up - https://www.kathrynamurra.com/

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/kathrynamurra/

Twitter - @AmurraKathryn

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20280375.Kathryn_Amurra

BookBub -  https://www.bookbub.com/books/amulet-heart-s-true-desire-book-1-by-kathryn-amurra

Buy Links:

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CSZG3YW3/

Nook - https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/amulet-kathryn-amurra/1144656859?ean=2940186000730

Giveaway:

Kathryn is offering Three eBook Copies of Amulet to Three Lucky Winners!

The giveaway is open internationally.

Runs from 12:00 AM EST on July 15 to 12:00 AM EST on August 3, 2024.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/30806ff52/?

 

Hosted By:

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https://quillandinkbooktours.com/

 

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Blog Tour ~ Cargo of Bones by Z. Lindsey

 CARGO OF BONES

Z. Lindsey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 GENRE:  Fantasy

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

BLURB:

Devil bureaucrat Essie Darkenchyl and her friends barely survived the jungle, but now they're going straight to Hell--AKA her hometown!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt:

“What’s happening now?” Two Rabbit shouted.

 

“Looks like some kind of sheep,” Merritt said.

 

Essie’s eyes shot open.

 

“Sheep?” Two Rabbit asked.

 

She still couldn’t move. She was staring at the sky again. Purple storm clouds.

 

“Essie?” the doctor asked. “Are you awake? You hear me? You’re bleeding to death! For Aro’s sake, let down that shield or aura or whatever you’re projecting.”

 

He was just out of sight. They were all out of sight. Essie desperately tried to sit, but it only made the storm clouds choke in on her faster. 

 

“Whoa!” Connie said. “Those are some mean sheep.”

 

“Sand sheep?” Boon asked.

 

Their voices made her head throb. She tried to follow, but couldn’t. It sounded like nonsense.

 

“By Aro—the sheep stepped on that guy’s crotch!” Merritt shouted. “Please don’t say we’re being rescued by sheep.”

 

“That’s if they don’t attack us, too,” Boon said.

 

“Holy Mother,” Two Rabbit said. “I’ve never seen a sheep spit like that.”

 

“Ohhhh.” Essie smiled as much as she could. “Llamas.”

 

Then she passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 AUTHOR Bio and Links:

 Zac Lindsey is an anthropologist and a linguist who focuses on the Maya people of Quintana Roo. Since childhood, he's had a not-so-secret love of weird, silly, and well-structured fantasy. When other people's parents were reading them picture books, his mom was reading him Terry Brooks. He typically writes hopeful and character-driven fantasy.

 

Today, he lives in Quintana Roo, Mexico with his wife, daughter, and various stray cats.

 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/z.lindsey_fiction/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61550498257222

Amazon link to the first book: https://www.amazon.com/River-Against-Sea-Z-Lindsey-ebook/dp/B0CH3TW3YD/ref=sr_1_1

B&N link to the first book (for paperback): https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-river-against-the-sea-z-lindsey/1144077772

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

 

Z. Lindsey will award a randomly drawn winner a $25 Amazon/BN gift card + a digital copy of the book via Rafflecopter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Blast ~ Shushan Portal - Behind the HollyHock Hedge by Gloria Person-Vasey

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Gloria Pearson-Vasey is awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

After her sister dies, Meara Deleaney invites her bereaved nephew, Jackson, to accompany her on a book tour to Canada's Atlantic provinces. Fearful of leaving the security of her apartment, Meara bolsters her courage by recalling the imaginary dragons she and her sister slew as children behind the hollyhock hedge.

As they travel in a motorhome from park to park and bookstore to bookstore, Meara and Jackson are unaware of the manipulating forces intent on preventing their return home. They do, however, realize they are being stalked and therefore welcome the company of another touring author, criminology professor Bartholomew Wolfe.

A long-standing professional relationship between the authors builds to romance and a persuasive invitation to seek shelter at the professor's lodge. However, to reach the lodge, Meara—now accompanied by her nephew, niece and mother—unsuspectingly travels through a portal which exits in a future dimension near a fortress.

From there, the family is escorted under guard through dangerous territory to a lodge where metaphorical dragons lie in wait, and security comes at a price.

Read an Excerpt

As bedtime neared, Meara was reaching for the television remote when the screen went dark. Simultaneously, the cabin lights dimmed to battery mode, the refrigerator switched from electricity to propane gas, and the microwave blinked off.

Meara and Jackson went outside to see if the power was out in the whole campground. It was an ideal summer night perfected by the sound of rolling surf, a sound they expected to later lull them to sleep in their motorhome haven. A breeze swept the scent of campfire smoke into the ocean-scented air. Small animals could be heard scuttling through nearby shrubbery, rustling twigs and leaves.

When it became apparent there was no generalized power outage, Jackson checked their electric outlet. The motorhome’s electric cord lay unplugged on the ground.

“Pranksters again,” he muttered as he bent to plug it in.

However, at the motorhome steps, Meara and her nephew came to an abrupt halt. On the vehicle’s bottom step lay a long-stemmed rose bearing an attached note.

Someone had stealthily placed it there in the brief time they were outside. Someone had been watching, waiting for the right moment to leave the rose.

No longer did the sound and smell of the ocean seem soothing. No longer did the scent of campfire smoke seem inviting. No longer did the rustling of twig and leaf seem friendly. They looked around nervously and saw no one.

About the Author: Gloria Pearson-Vasey weaves contemporary issues into her novels, and likes a story - be it literary fiction, historical fantasy or science fiction - to be authentic and end on a note of hope.

A member of The Writers' Union of Canada, Pearson-Vasey has also penned non-fiction books on autism and pilgrimage.

The author feels blessed for experiencing the joy and chaos of merging child raising with career, camping, travel and pets.

She lives in a picturesque Ontario town, and enjoys reading, music, country drives and time with family and friends.

https://gloriapearsonvasey.com
https://www.facebook.com/gpvwrites
https://x.com/rvwriter
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6517389.Gloria_Pearson_Vasey

PURCHASE LINKS FOR SHUSHAN PORTAL

https://amazon.com/dp/1779417861
https://amazon.ca/dp/1779417861
https://www.indigo.ca/en-ca/shushan-portal-behind-the-hollyhock-hedge/9781779417862.html
https://www.booktopia.com.au/search.ep?keywords=9781779417862
https://www.waterstones.com/book/9781779417862
https://www.abebooks.com/products/isbn/9781779417862

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Blog Tour ~ The Honeymoon Homicides - A Sydney Riley Provincetown Mystery by Jeannette de Beauvoir

 

THE HONEYMOON HOMICIDES

by Jeannette de Beauvoir

June 17 - July 12, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A Sydney Riley Provincetown Mystery

 

Despite an unforeseen disaster ruining her carefully planned wedding reception, hotelier Sydney Riley is undaunted as she and her brand-new husband Ali leave for their honeymoon in the dunes of Cape Cod’s National Seashore. But even in this deserted location, Sydney uncovers clues that might have a bearing on the wedding fiasco. Despite hoping for a new life, she’s drawn into yet another murder investigation—this time to protect Ali, who’s been called away on a secret and dangerous assignment.

Can Sydney find the murderer(s) before Ali is harmed, or will a week in the dunes be her only memory of their married life?

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy with an edge; Amateur Female Sleuth.
Published by: Homeport Press
Publication Date: June 13, 2024
Number of Pages: 188
ISBN: 9798986865447
Series: Sydney Riley (Provincetown) Mystery, 10th in a Series of Stand-Alone Books
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

The victim generously waited to be murdered until the final vows had been spoken and we were officially declared married. And that’s pretty much the best thing I can say about my wedding.

Not that it hadn’t begun auspiciously. I used to be wedding coordinator at Provincetown’s Race Point Inn—of which I was now co-owner—and so I had considerable experience wrangling vendors, petulant family members, and weather forecasts. And my partner Ali and I had reached an uneasy compromise with my mother in terms of the size and lavishness of the affair—no small feat, as my mother is abnormally addicted to big weddings. We were in addition juggling two religions and two cultures, as Ali is Muslim and his parents and extended family are all Lebanese. And we had somehow navigated all that.

What we hadn’t reckoned with, of course, was the body falling through the awning onto the terrace and, of course, the screams that followed.

***

“Sydney, you are not going to make this stop you,” was what Mirela said.

“Stop me from doing what?” I probably sounded distracted, mainly because I was distracted. The police, in the persons of a bunch of uniformed officers and my sometimes-sort-of-friend Julie Agassi, who was the head of Provincetown’s small detective unit, were swarming all over the place, putting up tape and directing people away from the immediate area. The rescue squad was there, too, though what they thought they could do to help a man who seemed to have broken every bone in his body and spread a great deal of his viscera around the patio was unknown. The wedding guests, in various stages of shock and occasional hysteria, had allowed themselves to be herded into the inn’s restaurant, already set up for the wedding dinner.

My mother was demanding loudly how such a thing could have been allowed and asking about suing the owners, apparently forgetting for the moment that I was one of them. My newly minted husband, Ali, was dealing with his parents, who’d seen more than enough of this kind of violence before they’d permanently fled Beirut and were dealing with some sort of PTSD shock.

And now my best friend Mirela was giving me… what? A pep talk?

“You should go now,” she said. “Leave for the honeymoon. You and Ali. There is no dinner. There is no dancing.”

“We weren’t doing dancing anyway,” I said blankly. After the initial shock, it was dawning on me that I was standing twenty feet from a corpse, wearing a bloodied wedding gown, and realizing—priorities being priorities—that I was not going to have, after all, a wedding feast catered by Adrienne the diva chef, who kept our restaurant’s Michelin stars intact and who has made P’town a destination for world-class dining. “This,” I said to Mirela, “is the worst wedding I’ve ever planned.”

She tossed the blonde hair escaping from her up-do—not that she looked any less gorgeous a little bedraggled—and peered at me. “Are you feeling all right?”

“No,” I said.

She took my elbow and turned me away from the scene unfolding on the terrace. “What you need,” she said firmly, “is a drink.”

“What I need is fourteen drinks,” I said. “But I should check on my mother—”

“The last thing you do is check on your mother,” she said. Mirela and my mother are not what you might call simpatico, mostly due to my mother’s criticisms of Mirela’s single status and her underappreciation of Mirela’s art (which earned her grudging respect only when she learned that the work routinely sold in the six-figure range).

“It doesn’t look like anything,” was her response to the abstract paintings that were now exhibited worldwide, and, “I don’t understand why she can’t find a husband.”

Mirela steered me to the bar area, already filling up with wedding guests in various stages of shock and all, apparently, requiring alcohol. She caught the bartender’s eye—a skill all the Bulgarians I’ve ever met have perfected—and he uncorked a bottle of wine and handed it across to her. She grabbed it without letting go of my elbow, and pulled me out of the restaurant and over to the small lounge area that had the advantage of having a door, which she closed behind us right away. “Here,” she said, handing me the bottle, and rooting around in a cupboard for a glass.

I was looking at the label in some dismay. “This is Châteauneuf-du-Pape,” I protested.

“Of course it is.” Her voice was brisk. “You need a drink.”

“A deplorable reason to drink this,” I insisted. It’s my favorite wine ever.

“Even more deplorable, sunshine,” said Mirela, “is that your guests will drink it if you do not.”

I sat down on the couch. I was understanding what romance writers were talking about when they used terms like “crumple.” I took a swig of wine straight out of the bottle, heaping blasphemy on blasphemy. “Where’s Ali?”

“He will find us.” She gave up trying to locate a glass and slanted a look over. “You are regaining color,” she informed me.

Which was more than we could say about the fellow out on the inn’s patio.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Ali standing there, but Julie, officious and sharp, her blonde hair and blue eyes making her look, always, like some kind of ice princess. “I thought you might be hiding somewhere,” she said.

I gave a weak gesture with the wine bottle. “Join the party,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“Not yet.”

“Then hold off.” She half-turned and spoke to someone behind her, and another cop came in, pulling the door closed behind him. He looked around the room, fast, the way cops do when they go anywhere, and found a straight chair and pulled out a notebook.

I know about what cops do. My husband is one of them. “It’s an odd word, isn’t it, husband?” I said. “Sounds sort of like a thump.”

Julie ignored me and said to the uniform, “Interview Sydney Riley, eight-fifteen pm.” She sat on a chair she pulled over close to the couch, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Focus, Sydney,” she said.

I sighed and put the bottle on the floor. Not too far away, just in case.

She still wasn’t sure of me. “Can you go find Ali?” Julie asked Mirela, who nodded and slipped out the door. Even Mirela knows not to argue with her. “Tell us what happened here,” said Julie.

I was having some trouble focusing on her. How can you feel drunk on one swig of wine? “I got married,” I said. “Somebody died.” I paused. “Who was he?”

“Not one of your wedding guests,” Julie said, almost absently. She was looking at a list, probably supplied by Mike, the Race Point Inn’s co-owner. He’s frighteningly competent. “Unless he was a last-minute addition? Do you know someone named Barclay Cargill?”

“That can’t be a real name,” I said automatically, then realized she was serious. “No. No, I’ve never heard of him.”

“He was staying at your inn.”

I stared at her. “We have eighty rooms,” I said. “I’m not the manager. You really think I know everybody?”

“You may remember him.” She produced her iPhone, flipped around a bit, then extended it to me. The man in the photo had dark hair and a beard that were starting to turn gray; what was most remarkable was that he was wearing a three-piece suit. People in P’town don’t wear three-piece suits.

Some people in P’town don’t wear much at all.

Julie retrieved her phone. “He’s an attorney,” she said.

She’d gotten her information remarkably quickly. “Okay,” I said. “So did he jump, or was he pushed?”

She was unamused. “You’re being remarkably flippant about someone’s violent death.”

“I’m remarkably flippant about anyone who gets murdered in the middle of my wedding.” I plucked at my ivory lace overskirt. “Just thought I’d remind you, in case you thought I was wearing this for a costume party. If he weren’t already dead, my mother would have killed him by now.”

She sighed. Julie sighs a lot when she’s around me. She’s even been known to refer to me as Provincetown’s answer to Miss Marple, and she doesn’t mean that in a good way.

It’s not exactly my fault that when someone gets murdered I end up having something to do with figuring it out. Julie thinks there’s some sort of cause and effect, but there really isn’t. I just know a lot of people—and it’s a small town.

But having a murder committed during my wedding? That was taking this whole amateur sleuthing thing just a little too far.

As though reading my thoughts, Julie said, “All right. You don’t know this man. Good. Can I take it that you won’t be trying to figure out what happened to him?”

The events of the past hour were starting to turn nasty on me, and I really wanted to be with Ali, not Julie. “No more than you are,” I said sweetly. It was a jab, of course: in Massachusetts, possible homicides are investigated by the state police, not the local force. I knew it was a sore spot with Julie, who thinks she’s better at it than they are. She can secure the scene, take preliminary statements, and assist the Staties when they arrive. “Is that all? Because—”

The door swung open and I’ve never, I think, been happier to see anyone. “Are you all right?” asked Ali. He didn’t even wait for me to respond. “She can give her statement later,” he said to Julie.

“She needs to do it while it’s fresh in her mind,” Julie said.

“Like most of our guests, she didn’t see anything until the individual was already on the ground,” said Ali. “She doesn’t need this now.”

“Maybe you two could stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I’d meant it to be. Ali came and sat beside me, carefully moving the bottle of Châteauneuf aside so he wouldn’t knock it over. He knew I’d need it later; it wasn’t exactly an occasion for Champagne, despite all the Veuve Clicquot that Martin, the maître d’, had waiting for us on ice.

Not that Ali drank alcohol, anyway.

I slid my hand into his; for all my rather aggressive petulance, I was feeling a little lost and a little sad. It was finally dawning on me that someone had died. At my inn. At my wedding.

Ali looked, of course, wonderful. He annoyingly always does. He has beautiful dark eyes and beautiful olive skin and dark hair that curls ever so slightly and is always just a little too long, and designer stubble that makes him look sexy and a little dangerous.

Well, he is an agent for Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The danger is real.

Julie was giving up. She jerked her head towards the other cop, who closed his notebook, stood up, and left the room. “You may be needed later on,” she said to me. “Both of you, in fact. Should the state police have any questions about the individual.” Oh, yeah, I’d hit a nerve.

I liked that business about the “individual.” I’d come way too close to saying something about him crashing the party. It must have been the shock; I hadn’t had nearly enough wine to account for it.

“We’re leaving in the morning,” I said.

“You can’t—” she started, automatically, and I interrupted her. “Honeymoon,” I said firmly.

“We’ll be back next week,” said Ali.

Even Julie Agassi knows when she’s beaten. She gave us one last stern official look, and fled.

“Well,” said Ali, putting his arm around my shoulder. “How do you like married life so far?

***

Excerpt from The Honeymoon Homicides by Jeannette de Beauvoir. Copyright 2024 by Jeannette de Beauvoir. Reproduced with permission from Jeannette de Beauvoir. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Jeannette de Beauvoir is the author of mystery and historical fiction—and novels that are a mix of the two—as well as a poet who lives and works in a cottage beside Cape Cod Bay. She is a member of the Authors Guild, the Mystery Writers of America, the Historical Novel Society, and Sisters in Crime.

Catch Up With Jeannette de Beauvoir:
JeannettedeBeauvoir.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @JeannettedeBeauvoir
Instagram - @JeannettedeBeauvoir
Pinterest - @JeannettedeBeauvoir
Facebook - @JeannettedeBeauvoir

 

 

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Blog Tour ~ A Sister's Duet by Cheryl Holt

 

A SISTERS DUET

by Cheryl Holt

June 10 - July 12, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

Amazon | Goodreads

WITH ONE LOOK

 

CHERYL HOLT dazzles readers once again with her new two-book SISTERS duet! It’s two fun, fast-paced, and dramatic tales of love forevermore…

JACKSON BENNETT is an army veteran who was seriously wounded in India while saving the life of a royal cousin. As his reward, he’s become the new Earl of Thornhill. But it’s an honor he doesn’t want. After barely surviving his final tour of duty, his view of life has been altered. He simply likes to loaf, gamble, and revel in every decadent activity he can find.

THEODORA CRONENWORTH is a dreamer and idealist who thinks the world should be a much fairer place, particularly for women. She works hard to improve women’s lives, and she definitely believes prominent men should behave better.

When Jackson meets Theodora, he’s humored by her energy and pluck, but he’s a confirmed bachelor who doesn’t think he could ever fall in love. With one look, he’s completely smitten, and with Theodora rattling his debauched existence, nothing will ever be the same.

Amazon | Goodreads

WITH ONE KISS

 

Fall in love with CHERYL HOLT all over again! She delivers the companion novel in her fun and dramatic SISTERS duet! It’s another tale of passion, forbidden romance, and love forevermore…

CHARLOTTE CRONENWORTH was born into a rich, prominent family, but after her father’s death, her fortunes plummeted. To support herself, she’s been teaching at a girl’s boarding school. Just as she’d begun to feel secure and complacent, the school went bankrupt, so it was closed and the students sent home. She’s been cast to the winds of fate, and she’s hoping to find employment as a governess, but she’s not optimistic. A woman on her own is never safe in her personal circumstances.

WINSTON WAINWRIGHT is Earl of Dartmouth. His title is one of the oldest and most esteemed in the kingdom, and he’s a rich, pompous snob. He takes his high status for granted and he’s confident of his elevated spot in the world. He was raised to believe that lesser mortals should bow down to his exalted self, and he never regrets his conceited attitudes or haughty habits.

When Winston meets Charlotte, there’s an instant attraction, and he’s enough of a rogue to feel entitled to act on it. He’ll be delighted to trifle with her, but she’s so far beneath him. He would never have honorable intentions. But with one kiss, he’s totally ensnared, and she just might be the one woman who can make him happy forever…

Book Details:

Genre: Regency Period Historical Romance
Published by: Indie
Publication Date: June 19, 2024
Series: A Sisters Duet
Series Link: Amazon

Read an excerpt from WITH ONE LOOK:

CHAPTER ONE

Theodora Cronenworth, called Theo by her family, strolled down the London street toward her home. She’d just attended the latest rally of the Matron’s Brigade, and she was lost in thought, struggling to deduce why she was still a member.

The group claimed to have begun a crusade against the dandies and vixens of the demimonde. The city had become a den of iniquity and they were determined to clean it up. Illicit conduct was rampant, and from the most toplofty aristocrat to the lowliest opera dancer, people were openly wallowing in sin and vice.

There seemed to be no limit to their depravities and civic leaders ignored what was happening. In fact, many of them were the worst offenders. So the Brigade had been formed.

The ladies had shrouded themselves in the mantle of moral indignation, and their purported goal was to root about decadence, but from Theo’s perspective, they simply argued amongst themselves over which direction to take. They also liked to point fingers as to who was sufficiently devoted to the cause and who wasn’t.

When they finally chose a target, it was a female who had no power or rich friends to protect her. The Brigade liked to punch down at those who couldn’t fight back and their focus enraged Theo.

In her view, if a woman was lured into wickedness, it was always the fault of a corrupt man. She constantly suggested they shame some of the scoundrels who instigated so much of the trouble, but the group wouldn’t hear of it. She’d flat-out been apprised that they didn’t dare harass any important males, and their cowardice infuriated her. None of their motives were true and they were a gaggle of hypocrites.

Her stepmother, Georgina, had encouraged her to join. Theo was clever with words, and she’d been tasked with writing pamphlets that would spread their message, but any message she penned was watered down to irrelevance.

Though she never discussed it, her own family had been destroyed by a cad when she was a little girl. Her mother had run away with him and vanished forever. Theo had never learned his name or any other information about him, but he’d never been held to account for his mischief.

Shouldn’t he have been? Could any prominent gentleman ever be forced to answer for his dissolution? Shouldn’t women demand better behavior from them?

Well, if the tepid antics of the Matron’s Brigade were any indication, no changes would ever occur.

She shoved the issue out of her mind. It was a beautiful May afternoon, the sky clear, the temperature balmy, and it was silly to waste any energy fretting about the situation. She wasn’t the Brigade’s prisoner and she didn’t have to continue to participate.

***

Excerpt from Cheryl Holt by WITH ONE LOOK. Copyright 2024 by Cheryl Holt. Reproduced with permission from Cheryl Holt. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

CHERYL HOLT is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon “Top 100” bestselling author who has published over sixty novels.

She’s also a lawyer and mom, and at age forty, with two babies at home, she started a new career as a commercial fiction writer. She’d hoped to be a suspense novelist, but couldn’t sell any of her manuscripts, so she ended up taking a detour into romance where she was stunned to discover that she has a knack for writing some of the world’s greatest love stories.

Her books have been released to wide acclaim, and she has won or been nominated for many national awards. She is considered to be one of the masters of the romance genre. For many years, she was hailed as “The Queen of Erotic Romance”, and she’s also revered as “The International Queen of Villains.” She is particularly proud to have been named “Best Storyteller of the Year” by the trade magazine Romantic Times BOOK Reviews.

She lives and writes in Hollywood, California, and she loves to hear from fans.

Catch Up With Cheryl Holt:
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