Thursday, October 1, 2020

PROMO Blitz: The Price of Safety by Michael C. Bland @mcblandwriter #promo #scifi #thriller #excerpt #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours


Science Fiction Thriller

Date Published: April 6, 2020

Publisher: World Castle Publishing

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By 2047, no crime in the U.S. goes unsolved. No wrongdoing goes unseen. When Dray Quintero learns his 19-year-old daughter Raven committed a heinous act, he covers it up to save her life. This pits him against the police he’s respected since he was a child and places him in the crosshairs of Kieran, a ruthless federal Agent. To survive, Dray must overcome the surveillance system he helped build and the technology implanted in the brains and eyes of the citizens.

Forced to turn to a domestic terrorist group to protect his family, Dray soon realizes the sheer level of control of his adversaries. Hunted and betrayed, with time running out, will Dray choose his family or the near-perfect society he helped create?



Chapter 1 from Michael C. Bland’s “The Price of Safety”

Igniting a miniature sun was the riskiest thing we’d ever attempted, yet we were doing it in front of the entire planet.

While Nikolai bragged about our innovations to the cameras, reporters, and two hundred VIPs assembled, I stood sixty feet away, facing the control panel of our unlit sustained-fusion reactor, searching for any indication our creation would explode. The seven-foot-long, concave control panel displayed the time remaining until ignition. Forty-five seconds.

I didn’t use the control panel to conduct my search. Instead, I projected our schematics and stress tolerance estimates onto the lenses in my eyes, the data hovering before me like a clear computer screen stretched across my vision. Hidden from everyone.

 “...each pod contains the highest concentration of dark matter ever collected,” said Nikolai, the CEO of our company, who’d been my friend once. “Eighteen months’ worth of space harvesting efforts.”

 We’d designed not only the pods but the entire ten-acre complex: the energy grid, the fifty-yard-wide containment chamber where we’d try to light the “sun” that would power our reactor, the domed observation room with celestial images on the ceiling and a massive window that revealed the chamber, and Nikolai’s temporary stage in front of the window. We’d also devised the safety protocols, power regulators, and energy-capture systems. The biggest risk was the medicine-ball-sized metal core we hoped to ignite. A single flaw could doom everyone here.

If we succeeded, though, our reactor would provide mankind with cheap, reliable energy—and us a spot in the history books. Nikolai would become richer than ever, with countries begging for our reactor. I’d see my creation come to life, which would tangibly better mankind, fulfilling a promise I’d made.

My personal cell phone buzzed in my pocket, a number I didn’t recognize flashing in the corner of my augmented sight. I ignored the call and reluctantly stopped my search as the countdown neared zero. Years of planning, of calculations and simulations and more money than I cared to contemplate, came down to this moment.

Beside me, Amarjit, my bushy-eyebrowed director of robotics, took a deep breath as I activated the reactor. Four titanium-geared positioning robots, each twenty feet tall, stepped forward in unison inside the solar-cell-lined, circular containment chamber, and lifted the dark matter containment pods to precise spots around the core. Reinforced metal rods moved two additional pods into position, one rod descending from the ceiling and the other rising from the floor.

“Dark matter is the key to our efforts,” Nikolai continued, his sharp chin pointing at the crowd. He wore his graying hair short, his thin frame coated in a pale suit. He also wore his datarings, which was odd, as my team and I were handling the sequence. “This unique substance causes regular matter to draw on itself. The resulting compression, which will occur at the molecular level throughout the core, is what we’re confident will create the fusion spark.”

The robots locked their joints into place.

I hadn’t wanted anyone here but was outvoted by our board, my simulations used against me. But the simulations were distorted with assumptions. I wasn’t sure the core had the right mix of elements, wasn’t sure about the pressure needed. Wasn’t sure about a lot of it.

I took a breath myself—aware of the lives at risk, the stakeholders and VIPs and broadcasting cameras—and powered up the dark matter.

The robots’ hands and the two cradles glowed as they released energy into the pods, activating the matter. Combined reverse-gravitational pressure enveloped the core to five hundred million newtons per square meter, squeezing it from all sides.

There was supposed to be light, the purest imaginable, maybe preceded by a flash. But nothing happened.

Our readouts measured the core’s compression, but showed nothing that indicated an ignition: no fusing of molecular fuels, no sign of liquefaction.

As anxiety crawled up my spine, I increased pressure, but nothing changed other than rising stress levels in the robots’ joints. I maxed the energy to the pods, compressing the core to pressure levels found under the Earth’s crust.

Amarjit shot me a look, his caterpillar-sized eyebrows squeezing together.

I knew the danger.

The pods were made of aluminum, the only metal that could contain energized dark matter without interfering with its reverse-gravitational force. But the dark matter became more volatile the more we assaulted it with energy, and the pods had limits to what they could hold.

With the forces we were manipulating, it felt like depending on a balloon to contain a shotgun blast. If one ruptured, our entire complex would be decimated, along with a portion of Los

Angeles. The city south and west of here should be protected from the blast by the mountainside we’d carved into, but maybe not. The amount of destruction would depend on the energy levels when everything went to shit.

The readouts on my lenses flashed red. We’d reached our thresholds, yet the core remained unchanged.

My personal cell phone buzzed again, the same unknown number.

Ignoring the call, I told Amarjit, “We’re aborting.” I touched the control panel to kill the power to the pods, but the system didn’t respond. “What the hell?”

I waved Nikolai over, but he wasn’t looking at me; he faced the chamber instead, his determined expression one I’d seen countless times. His hands hung at his sides, but his fingers were moving, entering commands. His silver datarings flashed as he typed on his legs, the rings registering his fingers’ movements as keystrokes—tracking where each finger moved as if he was typing on a keyboard—and sending his commands to his neural net, which I realized was now the only access point to the fusion reactor.

Behind him, the crowd became restless.

“Boss,” Amarjit said.

I followed his gaze. Inside the chamber, the robots extended their arms, moving the dark matter closer to the core. First two inches. Then four. Then six.

“I’m not doing it,” he said.

“It’s Nikolai.” I slapped at the digitally-projected controls, but they didn’t react. “He fucking cut us off.”

WARNING flashed red in my vision as alarms sounded.

The faceplate of one of the robots buckled from the reverse-gravitational forces emanating from its pod. The knee joint of another started to twist.

“Dray,” Amarjit said.

“I see it.” My hands skittered across the control panel as I tried to reboot the system but failed, my brow damp with sweat.

A strained sound reverberated inside the chamber, followed by a pop, and a crack stretched across the curved window before us. The air surrounding the robots shimmered like asphalt on a summer day.

I brought up the master settings to search for a power override. “Can you take command of the robots remotely?”

“No,” he said as he jabbed at the panel. “They can only be controlled from here.”

Robot Number Two—with the twisted knee—contorted further as the pressure from the dark matter mounted, sparks flying from its wrists. None of our simulations had covered this, but I knew what would happen. A few more degrees and its joint would shatter. It’d be thrown against the wall, the pod ripped open. We’d be obliterated in the explosion.

I needed to cut Nikolai’s signal.

The control panel rested on a bioplastic-enclosed base connected to a hollow metal railing. The dataring receiver had to be in the base. I hadn’t included one in the panel’s design, but it would’ve been easy for him to add. I wondered what else the self-serving bastard had done.

“You bring any tools?” I asked Amarjit, who shook his head. “Get everyone out of here.”

“There’s no time.”

He was right. “Then save yourself. Go.”

As he hurried away, I squatted below the panel, took my metal ID badge from around my neck, jammed it into the cover’s seam, and tore away the bioplastic to expose the motherboards, quantum cubes, and fiberwires that connected to the panel. I spotted the receiver immediately, an inch-long, fan-shaped device, and ripped it out, severing Nikolai’s connection.

I stood and hit the sequence to reestablish a link to the robots.

As systems came online, I wondered why the core hadn’t sparked. The reaction sequence should’ve initiated, especially with so much pressure. That’s when I noticed the liquefaction gauge. A section of tritium had liquified but was stunted, limited to the second quadrant.

Closest to Robot Number Two.

Where the pressure was angled.

I’d approached this wrong. I’d directed pressure uniformly around the core.

Regaining control, I linked with the robots to pull them back, but first shifted Robot Number Three—the least-damaged one—to the right, angling the pressure from its pod—

The core ignited.

Throughout the tritium veins that threaded the core, protons added to atoms in a domino effect, the veins turning into contained plasma, and brilliant light burst forth, painting the chamber. No explosion threatened us, no pressure, unlike the destructive effect of nuclear fission. Instead, warmth from the molten metal reached me through the glass, the chain reaction spreading over the core’s surface to begin consuming the denser, solid metals that would feed it for the next twenty years.

The warnings in my lenses, thrown in stark relief by the star we’d created, turned green as I pulled the robots back to reduce the pressure to acceptable levels, though one regarding the robots’ structural integrity remained red.

The chamber’s window tinted, returning our vision to us.

Nikolai threw up his arms to the crowd. “As promised, nuclear fusion! The first of many Gen Omega plants we’ll build across the country to address America’s energy needs.”

Applause washed over us.

“Bastard,” I murmured, shaking with adrenaline.

I reduced the dark matter’s energy to the minimum amount needed to keep our newborn sun suspended in position, while Amarjit, who’d rushed back to help, ran diagnostics on his robots, two of which no longer stood straight.

A phone number flashed on my lenses, the same one as before. This time it was calling my work cell. Possibly one of my employees. “Dray here.”

“Dad, I need help,” my nineteen-year-old daughter said.

I was caught off-guard, not only because it was Raven’s voice, but because of the fear in it. I’d never heard her so afraid.

Concerned, I moved away from Amarjit. “What happened?”

“You’ve got to come.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Not me. It’s....” Someone else. Trever Hoyt, her boyfriend, who Raven had gone out with tonight. He was a decent kid, though opinionated and a little snobbish. I had hoped she wouldn’t get serious with him, but they’d dated for almost a year. “Do you remember the time in

New Trabuco when I hit that rock? It’s worse than that.”

She meant there was a lot of blood. His blood, presumably. “You need to call the po—”

“I would, except it’s me.”

I didn’t understand, then did. She’d caused the bleeding.

I started to ask if they’d been in an accident, but she was being cagey for a reason.

Normally talkative and bright, she was avoiding saying certain words, aware that spiders patrolled the airwaves.

Watching what she said. Trever bleeding. The way she was acting, it could only mean one thing: she’d done something illegal, as hard as it was to believe.

Though I was still sweating, I felt a chill. No one got away with a crime. Not in 2047.

The people around me, the media and VIPs and shining fusion core, Nikolai waving at me to join him on stage as he said my name and proclaimed this was the start of “more wonders to come.” None of it mattered now.

I squeezed my finger-thin phone. “Where are you?”

“His parents’ place. Their work. There’s a spot we made where you can get in. I’m in a small building just past a maintenance road.”

My concern increased. She meant Trever’s parents’ facility. I’d never been there and didn’t know what they did, but I’d heard visitors required a security clearance due to the sensitive nature of government contracts the Hoyts had. It was a place she never should’ve been.

“On my way.”

* * *

I exited the 605 at Beverly and raced through Whittier, passing countless neighborhoods, most of which were dark this time of night. I closed my data streams to reduce my digital trail, and tried to avoid the surveillance that existed even in this sleepy part of Los Angeles, the cameras and traffic scanners and microphones that monitored most of the country. I wanted to take side streets to further reduce my history, but needed to get to Raven. She wasn’t the type to ask for help. Strong and resourceful, she helped others, cared about the neglected and abused—otters, immigrants, the homeless—and debated fiercely, but never with a mean spirit. She would become a force as an adult—though with the way she’d sounded, I worried for her future.

My thoughts flickered to my son Adem, who’d died before he learned to talk. Even with how safe I’d helped make our world, I couldn’t protect him. Couldn’t save him. I feared I wouldn’t be able to save Raven, either.

I passed the guarded entrance to Hoyt Enterprises and followed the fortified, ten-foot-high wall for blocks until I located Trever’s red-and-black McLaren. I tried to tamp down my fear as I parked my Chrysler E-650 sedan beside the metal wall. I had to be level headed and calm, though I didn’t feel either.

Spotting the hole Trever and Raven had created, two of the vertical panels pried apart, I went to it. I’d maintained my weight over the years, but I’d always been thick. As a result, I had to squeeze my way through the gap.

Multi-story buildings occupied most of the compound’s interior—production, office, warehouse—though they stood back from the wall, the structures dark, the only light in the complex coming from the entrance far to my left. Closer to me, one-story storage structures stretched in long rows, the nearest five yards away. Straight ahead was an empty space followed by an asphalt road and a cluster of residence-type buildings barely visible in the darkness. To my right, a flat-topped building sat on top of an unlit hill adjacent to the facility. The property was fenced, and the two parcels shared a wall.

I started toward the residence-type buildings, sticking close to the nearest storage structure, followed the structure to the far end, and found a security camera staring at me. I froze, but my image had already been captured.

My apprehension growing, I continued forward and crossed the road.

The buildings were old, possibly the property’s original development. Three could have been homes, another a garage, a fifth some kind of lab. I hesitated, unsure which one she might be in, heard a sound to my left, and cautiously proceeded toward the residence in that direction.


She appeared in the shadowed doorway, pulled me inside, and hugged me, trembling.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“It was Trever’s idea. Dad, he attacked me. He tried to rape me.”

I stepped back. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw the swelling in her face, her bloody lip. Her shirt was torn.

A primal rage began to grow. “Did he...?”

“No.” Her composure, thin as it was, cracked. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Her words tempered my anger and fear, though not by much. “Whatever you did was

self-defense. You were justified. The police will see the truth.”

“I can’t.”

“They’ll listen.”

She grabbed my arm. “His implant. I ripped it out.”

His neural net, the implanted technology that linked our brains to the web, work, and every other digital source. Federal law required that every citizen have one, and tampering with them was punishable by death, regardless of the circumstances. There had been complaints about the law’s extremity, even demonstrations, but nothing had changed, and most people didn’t care, too enamored with the access their implants granted.

My lips felt numb. “Is he alive?”

“I don’t think so.”

She led me to the next room, where Trever lay in a pool of blood, his body contorted, his implant nearby.

I’d never seen an implant outside of a person’s head. The part that was usually visible, the silver-dollar-sized reflective end, stuck out no more than a quarter-inch from a person’s temple. However, the entire implant was over an inch and a half long, with two curved leads that jutted deeper into the brain: one about two inches long and the other about five inches.

“He grabbed me and tore at my clothes,” she said. “I tried to crawl away, but when he grabbed me, I kicked him as hard as I could, and he rolled off. That’s when I saw the pipe.”

She indicated a rusted drainage pipe, one end curled back where it had broken off.

I squatted beside it, careful not to touch it. “You hit him with this?”

She nodded.

“How many times?”

“Just once. When I swung, the pipe caught the edge of his implant. I didn’t mean to.”

Trever wasn’t the first corpse I’d seen, but he was the first born of violence, which made me unsettled. His right temple was caved in where his implant had been. The metal ring that had secured his implant in place was missing, along with a chunk of his skull. Raven’s years of playing softball had saved her from a heinous act—but at a terrible price.

A fierce protectiveness rose inside me, joining my fear. The police would be methodical. I had to anticipate what they’d find.

The building we were in was being renovated. The floor had been reduced to a concrete slab and the walls gutted, with spools of wire stacked in a corner and construction supplies strewn about. A nearby wall had blood splattered in an arc.

Nothing contradicted her story, though doubt nagged at me. “Ripping out his implant was a fluke,” I told her. “It was self-defense. A jury won’t convict you."

“He didn’t rape me. I stopped him. If people could’ve seen his face, how he lunged at me, what he said, they would understand, but there aren’t cameras in here. No one will believe me.”

A prosecutor could claim her injuries were self-inflicted. Say she’d torn her own clothes. Without hard evidence, she was in danger.

She didn’t have to add that Trever’s parents were politically well-connected. Mina frequently interacted with them as chief of staff for the mayor of Los Angeles. Jesus, Mina. She was going to be horrified.

“What do we do?” Raven asked.

“I don’t know. Who knows how many cameras I passed getting here, not to mention the GPS in my car?”

When I left the reactor, I’d shielded my face from the cameras I knew about, but dozens of others had probably nailed me, including the one inside the facility. Hell, our phone call could be used against us. My work cell had a built-in scrambler, so the cops would only get one side of our conversation, but with the other evidence, it’d be enough.

She didn’t plead, didn’t back away. “I’ll turn myself in.”

I started for her, careful not to step on Trever’s implant, but paused.

The implant.

If she hadn’t ripped it out, hadn’t killed him, I would’ve wanted her to confess to the police. But if she did, she would pay the ultimate price.

She couldn’t just leave. Not only had she been caught on camera, she was leaving DNA: blood, hair, dead skin. I was, too.

We had to do this a different way and hope it worked, because I couldn’t lose her. She and her sister were my world.

“I have an idea. You’re not going to like it,” I told her. “I’ve heard rumors about people stealing implants. Cops don’t want to admit it happens, because it’s one of the only crimes they struggle to solve.”

“Why would people steal...? Oh. To become someone else.”

I nodded. “Each has a unique code cops can use to identify us if they get a warrant. A criminal who wants to hide from author ities can’t unless they obtain a new code, which means a new implant—one that’s been stolen, wiped, and recoded.”

“You want to blame Trever’s death on implant thieves.”

“To do that, I’ll have to take yours.”

Her eyes grew big. “What?”

“If yours isn’t stolen, the authorities won’t believe you.” I held out my hands. “I’ll take it out straight, minimal damage. You can tell the police you two were here hiding out or whatever when men jumped you. Trever tried to defend you, but they overwhelmed him and ripped out his implant. They were easier on you, as you didn’t fight, using the same pipe—”

“The same pipe? Dad, I don’t want to die.” She looked panicked.

I took her in my arms. “You won’t. I promise. Tell the cops the men were masked and didn’t say anything.”

When I let go, she wiped her cheeks. “How do the police find me?”

“As soon as I take your implant, I’ll call 911.”

She paled further, eyes darting, but nodded.

I had her lay near Trever, yet far enough away that she didn’t touch his blood.

“I’m scared,” she said.

I wasn’t a father. I was a monster for suggesting this. But I had to keep her safe.

I touched her cheek. “I’ll make it as clean as possible. With the right amount of force, it’ll pop out.” I had the strength. I’d manhandled the robots we’d used in the reactor. “This is the only way.”

As she rolled onto her side, I picked up the pipe. I placed my hand on her head, my calloused fingers nearly palming it. “I love you.”

I gently slid the hooked lip of the pipe under the edge of her implant, wincing when the pipe touched her skin. After seeing Trever’s neural net, I knew Raven’s had been implanted straight into her skull. If I pulled up, like removing a nail, it’d minimize the damage. I didn’t want to do this, and would probably never forgive myself, but it needed to look like a criminal stole her neural net.

I had an image of her in prison garb, curled on a metal cot. Another of her strapped to a gurney, getting a lethal injection.

I couldn’t let that happen, whatever the cost.

I held her in place with my free hand and pulled on the pipe, at first gently and then as hard as I could. For the briefest of moments, the ring held—she screamed—then gave way with a wet sound. The implant tumbled to the ground as I fell back, the pipe nearly flying from my hand.

She started to shake and gasp. Sparks flickered in her eyes, and blood welled up in the hole I’d opened in the side of her head.

A panic unlike anything I’d ever felt seized me.

What had I done?


About the Author

Michael C. Bland is a founding member and the secretary of BookPod: an invitation-only, online group of professional writers. He pens the monthly BookPod newsletter where he celebrates the success of their members, which include award-winning writers, filmmakers, journalists, and bestselling authors. One of Michael’s short stories, “Elizabeth,” won Honorable Mention in the Writer’s Digest 2015 Popular Fiction Awards contest. Three short stories he edited have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Another was adapted into an award-winning film. Michael also had three superhero-themed poems published in The Daily Palette. He currently lives in Denver with his wife Janelle and their dog Nobu. His novel, The Price of Safety, is the first in a planned trilogy, and has been recognized as a finalist in both the National Indie Excellence awards and the Next Generation Indie Book Awards. For more information about Michael’s life and work, visit


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Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Book Blitz: The Birds Sang Eulogies by Mirla Geclewicz Raz #promo #nonfiction #memoir #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours


Memoir, Non-fiction

Date Published: November 2019

 Publisher: Gersten Weitz Publishers

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Three generations tell an incredible story of survival in the poignant Holocaust memoir The Birds Sang Eulogies.The survivors Anna and Danny Geslewitz tell of their harrowing wartime experiences. Danny’s began in the Lodz ghetto in Poland, then continued in Auschwitz, then in a series of forced labor camps. Anna’s journey took her from the horrors of the Lvov ghetto to a flight into Germany to avoid death in the ghetto. The end of the war, while it ended their years of agony and deprivation, found Danny barely alive and struggling to regain his health and Anna dealing with the post-war chaos as she tried to locate family. The book then follows Anna and Danny’s daughter and granddaughter years later when they travel to Poland and record their reactions to the sites of their family’s suffering. These riveting accounts close with moving poetry written by Anna. Readers will share the sorrow and terror the poems express as they marvel at the bonds of these three generations. 



In this poignant memoir, The Birds Sang Eulogies, Anna and Danny Geslewitz's incredible stories of survival are told by them, their daughter and their granddaughter, three generations affected by the Holocaust. Danny's agonizing story began the moment the Germans invaded Lodz, Poland in 1939. His harrowing story of survival begins in the ghetto where starvation and death were rampant. When the Germans liquidated the ghetto in 1944, Danny and his remaining family members were sent to Auschwitz. Danny's description of hell on earth leaves the reader horrified. After enduring Auschwitz for three weeks, Danny and his brothers began nightmarish journeys to seven forced labor camps were they endured inconceivable deprivations. After witnessing two brothers perish, Danny is near death when suddenly the Germans disappear. Living in the eastern Polish city of Lvov, Anna vividly describes life and death in the Lvov Ghetto. When it becomes clear that the Germans will kill every remaining Jew in the ghetto, she and her sister flee into Germany. There, Anna works as a maid in German household. She lives a life of constant terror fearing that her Jewish identity will be discovered. The mayhem of liberation brings its own challenges to Anna and Danny. Barely alive, Danny struggled to regain his health. Anna scrambled to find a way to survive in the chaos and find her sister from whom she had been separated. As Danny and Anna worked to find their place in life, they meet in Germany. Together, they begin a memorable new chapter. Years later, their daughter and granddaughter travel to Poland. Their personal accounts of their trips are riveting. Anna Geslewitz was a poet. One can feel her sorrow, terror and angst as one reads her poems. The poems are included in The Birds Sang Eulogies: A Memoir.

About the Author

Ms. Raz is a retired speech pathologist and the author of the popular Help Me Talk Right books How to Teach a Child to Say the “R” Sound in 15 Easy Lessons, How to Teach a Child to Say the “S” Sound in 15 Easy Lessons and How to Teach a Child to Say the “L” Sound in 15 Easy Lessons and Preschool Stuttering: What Parents Can Do. Ms. Raz is also a contributing author in other publications.

Ms. Raz is a past president of the Phoenix Holocaust Survivors’Association. She is a member of the Board and the Education Chair for the Phoenix Holocaust Association. Ms. Raz newest publication is The Birds Sang Eulogies: A Memoir. The book recounts the harrowing experiences of her parents during WWII as they struggled to survive the Nazi’s attempted extermination of the Jews.

Ms. Raz is married to Zohar Raz. They are the proud parents of two daughters and two grandchildren.


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Release Blitz: Aurora's Cowboy Daddy by Melinda Barron #promo #western #romance #releaseday #giveaway #rabtbooktours @BlushingBooks @RABTBookTours


Ranch Rescue Book 1

Western Romance, Contemporary

Date Published: September 30, 2020

Publisher: Blushing Books

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Holt Coleman runs the Rescue Ranch with his five brothers. A project initiated by their parents and supported by the entire family. They rescue abused women, and abused horses. Two very different ventures with more similarities than expected, both are suffering from past trauma and have lost the ability to trust. Currently, the ranch needs a new house mother to welcome and assist the women who are seeking safety here. When convicted murderer Aurora Bickman applies Holt’s intrigued by her application and her past. When he meets her he knows he has to have her, as an employee, as a lover and as her daddy.

Aurora Bickman was released from prison early given her good behavior and prison overcrowding. Most people thought she didn’t serve long enough but they also didn’t know her sentence began shortly after she married her deceased husband. Feeling as though she’s imposed on her best friend’s hospitality long enough, and even though she’s scared beyond belief, she is ready to start her life over on her terms. Surprised she has an interview and worried she’ll be rejected, she pushes the feelings aside and takes a chance at the Rescue Ranch. When she sees the gorgeous ranch and meets the handsome Holt Coleman, she feels as if her dreams have a chance to come true. In more ways than one.

This is book one in the Rescue Ranch series and can be enjoyed independently.

Publisher’s Note: This sexy, Daddy Dom, cowboy romance contains elements of danger, adventure, mystery, sensual themes and power exchange and is intended for adults only. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.


About the Author

Melinda Barron loves to explore Egyptian tombs and temples, discover Mayan ruins, play in castles towers, and explore new cities and countries. She generally does it all from the comfort of her home by opening a book.

Melinda loves to lose herself between the pages of a book. The only thing she loves more is creating stories from the wonderful heroes and heroines that haunt her dreams and crowd her head. She believes love is for everyone, not just those who are a size 2. Her books are full of magic, suspense and love, in all sorts of shapes and sizes.

Mel currently lives in the Texas Panhandle, with two cats, and a file stuffed with new ideas to keep her typing fingers busy, and your heart engaged.

She also writes as Maura McMann.

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PROMO Blitz: The Best Doctor in Town by Amelia Townsend #promo #mystery #rabtbooktours @JanCarolBooks @RABTBookTours @townsendart


A Tall Tales from the Hills Novel: Book 1


Date Published: November 7, 2019

Publisher: Jan-Carol Publishing, Inc.

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Set in Southwest Virginia and inspired by actual events and the story of the small town's most revered doctor, who may just be a serial killer. A local police officer with a tarnished reputation, a reporter who manipulated facts, and the doctor's chief intern, who may be a thief, have pieces of the puzzle. Yet no one in authority believes the great doctor could be responsible. All the while, patients are dying.

About the Author

Shadowed and protected by the mountains of her native southwest Virginia, Amelia Townsend has lived hither, thither, and yon – mostly between Virginia and North Carolina. She has worked as a newspaper and TV reporter, freelance producer and director, writer, and now PR hack.  She is a proud graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

She has no claim to fame. Further, she is most often bewildered when people say they are impressed by her work. Her first novel, Keepsakes for the Heart, was nominated by the N.C. Historical Association for the prestigious Ragan Old North State Award for non-fiction.

Her favorite avocation is listening to and writing down other people’s stories, for truth surely is stranger and more beautiful than fiction. This is where Townsend has found fodder for the stories of the hills that she wrote with her late writing buddy. Several have come to life in the form of a novel and a couple of plays in production. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Townsend’s most impressive accomplishments are her children – a son and daughter – who managed to turn in to fine young adults, despite her attempts to raise them.

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Twitter: @townsendart


Instagram: @ameliatownsendauthor


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Sale Book Blitz: Love's Full Circle by Cherry Christensen #promo #onsale #sale #booksale #giveaway #christian #romance @RABTBookTours



Contemporary Christian Romance

Date Published: April 27, 2019

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Kayden James may have missed out on her happy ever after. But, as a successful marriage and family therapist, at least she can help other people find theirs. Now that her career has taken off, Kayden is finally ready to put the past behind her. . . until it strolls into her office unexpectedly one day. The last thing Kayden needs is for her ex-boyfriend to stir up old feelings. She’d rather stay a single cat lady than let him break her heart again.

Liam has spent a long time living with one regret—letting Kayden slip through his fingers. He’s determined to make amends for the way he treated her all those years ago, but he’s finding it hard to melt her icy exterior. If he can just convince her to trust him and see that he’s changed, their love finally has a chance of coming full circle.


A combination of relief and confusion washed over Kayden while she processed the information. Her brain registered a jumbled mess of contradictory emotions ranging from sadness to anger to happiness.

Liam withdrew his hand. “That’s all in the past,” he said, reaching for his burger. He took a big bite and stared off into the distance.

“You said you work nearby. Where?”

“The University of Colorado. I teach computer science at their Denver campus.”

Kayden let out a low whistle. “I’m impressed. What’s your area of expertise?”

“Database Management Systems.”

“Sounds complicated.” She finished eating her fries. “It wouldn’t be my idea of fun, but I bet you find the subject fascinating.”

He grinned. “Not as fascinating as your job. In my line of work, it’s extremely rare for a computer to get mad and storm out of the room.”

Kayden gave him a playful elbow to the ribs. “Very funny.” Her lips twitched, struggling to contain the laughter, until it burst out and engulfed them. Soon they giggled like two long lost friends instead of estranged exes.

Shane cleared away their plates. “Any dessert for you today?”

“No, thank you,” Kayden answered.

“I’ve got this,” Liam replied as Shane slid the check on the bar between them. He placed the money he extracted from his wallet on the counter. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks. You folks enjoy the rest of your day.”


Liam followed Kayden out of the restaurant and into the sunshine, feeling a little less guilt-ridden than when the day had begun. He stepped lightly and inhaled the aromatic pansies blooming in one of the many large flower pots dotting the sidewalk along the path to Elway Plaza. 

He eased his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose. While they walked, he admired the captivating woman beside him and thanked God for the opportunity to make amends for the way he’d treated her.

“This is my stop. Thank you for lunch.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I guess I’ll see you around.” She turned for the door.

“Wait!” He withdrew the wallet in his back pocket and pulled out his business card. “Give me a call sometime. Day or night.”

Kayden read aloud the name on the card: Liam Pierce, PhD.

He slowly stepped away, wishing he had a camera to capture her radiant smile. “Goodbye, Dr. James.”

About the Author

Amazon #1 Bestselling Author

Cherry resides in the Mitten State with her husband of 19 years and a tabby cat named Caden. A true Michigander, she points at the palm of her right hand when telling people where she lives, drinks Vernors ginger ale when she’s under the weather, wears shorts and a sweatshirt at the same time, and measures distance in minutes, not miles. She also cheers for her favorite football team, the Michigan Wolverines. Go Blue!

A confirmed night owl, Cherry wholeheartedly agrees with whoever said, “I could be a morning person, if morning happened around noon.” It’s no surprise then she prefers to write in the evening. She’s a bit of a pantser writer, meaning she dreams up stories without using an outline, so every day is an exciting adventure as she waits to see where the characters lead her next!

A lifelong avid reader, Cherry turned to writing as a creative outlet. Drawing partly from her own experiences, and partly from her wild imagination, she weaves romantic tales with a smidgen of religion and a hint of mystery. Cherry’s first novel, The Fearful Heart, debuted in 2014, and she has never looked back. She continues to grow as an author, learning more about the writing craft with each book.

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Tuesday, September 29, 2020

Release Blitz: Battling with Innnerchild by Reyhan Toplu #promo #selfhelp #nonfiction #psychology #releaseday #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours


Healing My Inner child to Restore Self-Love

Self Help- Body mind Spirit- Psychology

Date Published: 9/29/20

Do you have a yearning to be the best version of yourself, but struggle to connect with your inner child? If you answered yes, perhaps I can help. I am Reyhan Toplu, and once upon a time, I was just like you. My journey will help inspire you to reconnect with yourself.

We’ve all heard the cliché, “don’t lose sight of the child within”, but how do we hold onto them in a world of negativity? How do we preserve our love and innocence in a world seemingly intent on grinding us down? The time is right for us to rediscover our inner peace and self-love.

Too many of us think of our inner child as someone to fight against, rather than embrace. The victim of embarrassment, trauma, and for some of us, suffering, we’re all too willing to fight against the worst of what our inner child could be, rather than realizing the potential for growth, love, and happiness. This book is all about a journey to reconnect with my inner child, a book of ideas to help you on your own journey to finding peace and happiness. Our journeys may not be the same, but I hope my story can help guide you to finding your own contentment.

Journey with me, Reyhan Toplu, as we explore the hidden truths of your inner child on a quest for health and happiness that comes from within.

About the Author

Reyhan Toplu is an holistic healing and mindfulness practitioner, scholar, yogini, and author who offers her blending lifetime skills and knowledge with holistic; body mind spirit approach. Reyhan focuses on the multidimensional needs of individual. Recognizing a need for greater spiritual awareness in society, Reyhan has devoted her life on especially inner child healing, self-love, teaching mindfulness and helping people in all age groups who need to discover and develop their creative power of self-healing and personal growth. She also has integrated her accredited yoga, meditation, reiki, shamanic healing and other healing practices into her private healing & therapy work and public course offerings. And she is also writing her next book “Mindful Compassion for Suffering".

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