THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: The Diet Dropout’s Guide to Natural Weight Loss, Stan Spencer {$0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

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Description of The Diet Dropout’s Guide to Natural Weight Loss:

As seen on the TODAY show, this book isn’t about the latest celebrity diet, wonder food, or miracle supplement. It’s about creating a personalized weight loss plan—your own easiest path to naturally thin. While you can lose weight with almost any diet, keeping the weight off is much more difficult, requiring permanent changes in eating and exercise habits. This book provides a science-based approach for making those changes in a way that works best for you, without wasting time, money, or effort.

Dr. Spencer explains why we gain weight and why the fat lost by dieting almost always comes back. He then presents an array of practical weight loss tools for controlling emotional eating, calming cravings, boosting metabolism, and improving nutrition and exercise. In the final chapter he has you create a natural weight loss plan based on your unique set of needs, abilities, and preferences. Simple recipes are provided for weight loss foods that reduce cravings and prolong satisfaction.

What this book offers is a solid approach to weight loss—self-directed, gradual, and lasting—in contrast to the quick but fleeting weight loss offered by most one-size-fits-all diet plans.

 

Accolades:

“Well-presented and easy to understand, this one is highly recommended.” — Library Journal (starred review)

“A slim volume that has the basics of behavior change, and includes all the ones people really struggle with.” — NBC’sTODAY show

“Dr. Spencer’s book presents a common sense, safe, and enduring weight loss program that presents the essential elements of a healthy lifestyle.” — James E. Gangwisch, PhD, College of Physicians and Surgeons, Columbia University

“There are no superfluous words here, just the facts. . . . For those who want to lose weight naturally, safely, healthfully and permanently (no matter how gradually) this is simply THE book.” — Be Healthy and Well

 

Review Ratings:

The Diet Dropout’s Guide to Natural Weight Loss currently has a review rating of 4.4 stars from 86 reviews. Read the reviews here.


The Diet Dropout’s Guide to Natural Weight Loss is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

An excerpt from The Diet Dropout’s Guide to Natural Weight Loss:

If this were the early 1960s instead of the 2010s, you might not need a weight loss book. Most people were thin then.
Not now. Even with all the dieting we do, more than two thirds of US adults are now overweight, and the rate of obesity has almost tripled since 1960. So what is behind this weight gain epidemic?

A Less-Active Lifestyle

Our bodies are designed for manual labor and long-distance walking. Many of us, however, enjoy door-to-door motorized transportation to and from a desk job followed by hours of television or other passive entertainment. Such a lifestyle not only burns few calories but can also encourage us to eat more than we would if we were busy with physical activities.

The Fattening Food Environment

Before processed foods became the norm, our ancestors filled their dinner plates with minimally processed vegetables, fruits, and whole grains. Meats were unprocessed and lean. These natural foods, combined with an active lifestyle, promoted a slim, healthy body.
In contrast to the healthy foods enjoyed by our ancestors, the foods on our grocery store shelves today are often highly processed and have added fat and sugar. These processed foods are packed with calories and are so convenient and tempting that it’s easy to eat too much of them. As a result, the average adult today eats more calories than in past decades, with most of the extra calories coming from carbohydrate-rich foods such as sweets, soft drinks, potato products, pizza, bread, pasta, and white rice.
There are ten important aspects of our food environment that encourage us to eat too much.

1. Foods that Don’t Satisfy
Food processing produces calorie-heavy, low-nutrient, low-fiber foods that digest quickly. These foods leave us with loads of calories, soon-empty stomachs, and cravings for more.

2. Highly Palatable Foods
Highly palatable is a term used by scientists for foods that taste so good that we are tempted to eat them even when our stomachs are full. Most of these are processed foods high in fat, sugar, or refined flour. Such foods have become more abundant and affordable in recent decades, resulting in greater temptations to overeat. We often eat these foods for comfort or pleasure, not because we are hungry.
Highly palatable foods affect the parts of the brain that are responsible for drug addiction and cravings. The authors of a scientific study of the brain’s response to highly palatable foods concluded that “overconsumption of palatable food triggers addiction-like … responses in brain reward circuits and drives the development of compulsive eating.” In other words, junk food can be addictive.

3. Calorie-Heavy Foods
While the vegetables, fresh fruits, and whole grains our ancestors ate were high in nutrients and low in calories, the processed foods that fill our grocery store shelves are just the opposite — high in calories and low in nutrients. The result is that a typical meal of modern processed foods has more calories than we need and often too few nutrients. Calorie-heavy foods are believed to be a major factor in the weight gain epidemic.

4. Cheap, Convenient Food
There is inexpensive, ready-to-eat food almost everywhere we go. We have candy jars at work and cookie jars at home. We stock our refrigerators with soft drinks and our pantries with packaged snacks. Just seeing junk food can make us hungry, and food within easy reach is harder to resist than food that requires a little more effort to obtain. Eating too much has never been easier.

5. Large Portions
In the US, portion sizes of many foods have increased two- to five-fold since the 1970s. We tend to keep eating until the portion in front of us is gone, no matter what its size. Similarly, we tend to eat more when eating a snack food directly out of a large package (such as a bag of potato chips) than when served individual portions.

6. Passive Entertainment
Watching television or movies burns very few calories. It also encourages needless eating. If we eat during such entertainment, our distraction with the storyline can cause us to continue eating past the point at which we would normally be satisfied.

7. Convenient Substitutes for Water
Sports drinks, sugary soft drinks, fruit juices, and alcoholic drinks are readily available in our homes and elsewhere. These drinks quickly add calories without lasting satisfaction. Their consumption is believed to be a major factor in the weight gain epidemic.

8. Misleading Labels and Advertising
A picture of a slender athlete on a package of fresh fruit might make sense. The same picture on an “energy bar” consisting mostly of corn syrup and puffed rice does not. Advertisements often inaccurately depict the health benefits of the foods they are promoting.

9. Unhealthy Snack Foods
Common snack foods tend to be higher in calories and lower in nutrients than the kinds of foods usually eaten with meals. They are quick to add calories but slow to satisfy.

10. Restaurants
We eat out more now than in decades past. Restaurant food tends to be higher in calories and served in larger portions than food cooked at home. As a result, one restaurant meal might have enough calories for an entire day.

The Solution

Think of excess fat as a collection of bad habits. Lose the fat-promoting habits, and you will lose the excess fat. Each time you give up one of these bad habits (all other things being equal), you will lose fat until your body naturally settles at a lower weight. At that point you will need to give up another bad habit to lose more weight and keep it off.
Permanent weight loss requires permanent lifestyle changes. The information in this book will help you replace bad habits with good ones and make the lifestyle changes required for lasting weight loss. You will learn how small adjustments in your eating and exercise habits can result in a big difference in body fat over time, why many of the things you hear about gaining or losing weight are false, and why popular diets rarely produce permanent weight loss. You will also learn how to change your personal environment so it’s no longer fattening, boost your metabolism without drugs or supplements, give your body the exercise it needs without wasting time, eat fewer calories without counting them or going hungry, and beat temptation with the willpower you already have.

 

The Diet Dropout’s Guide to Natural Weight Loss is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!


Connect with Stan Spencer:

Website: http://www.fatlossscience.org

On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/WeightLossBook

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DrStanSpencer

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Dangerous Past, A. Ebbers {$0.99}

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Description of Dangerous Past:

Airline Captain Frank Braden is being stalked by unknown assassins who have a deadline to make his death look like an accident or a suicide. Braden and his wife, Nicole, don’t know why he is being targeted. They don’t realize that they stand in the way of a deadly conspiracy. After several attempts on his life, Braden receives a message warning him not to attend a Senate hearing in Washington. If he agrees he will will receive a million dollars and his wife’s life.

Dangerous Past is a story of a man who must choose between doing what ought to be done or keeping his family alive.

 

Accolades:

Kirkus Reviews: “The author writes with breezy energy and is at his best when describing scenes of suspenseful intrigue. Frank and his wife, Nicole, emerge as a heroic pair. These two steal the show. Spirited, readable debut with extra points for plot and pacing.”

“A gripping page-turner to the very end.”–Midwest Book Review.

“Dangerous Past is a mystery-thriller in the spirit of both Scott Turow and Ernest K. Gann.” Military Writers of America Review.

Amazon Reviewer: “A fast-paced thriller that kept me guessing at every turn! My interest never waned once as I was reading, and I struggled to put it down” — Ruth Hill.

 

Review Ratings:

Dangerous Past currently has a review rating of 3.9 stars from 55 reviews. Read the reviews here.


Dangerous Past is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99

 

An excerpt from Dangerous Past:

It was nine at night, when the FBI agent watching Frank’s house decided to drive down the road to get a cup of coffee. He figured it would take no longer than twenty minutes. Inside the house Nicole made some coffee and gave a cup to Frank to take outside to give to the agent.

Frank went out the front door and looked for the agent’s car. He peered into the darkness and started to cross the street when he heard a voice from the side of the yard.

“I’m back here.”

Frank turned around and walked into the dark beside his house.

“Over here.”

Frank thought the voice now came from the back yard and he continued toward the rear of the house. When he got to the rear yard, Frank still couldn’t see the agent. “Hey, where in the devil are you? I got some hot coffee.”

“I think I saw someone run into the foliage near the lake. You better go back inside where it’s safe while I have a look around.”

“No, I’ll help you search. Wait a minute.” Frank jogged towards the voice that seemed to be closer to the lake now.

Standing in the shadows, John smiled. For whatever reason, whether his victim was a macho know-it-all type or just naive of the danger, many of the men he had killed had swallowed that bait. He also figured from the fax sheet he had received, that the Austin police had taken Frank’s .38-calber revolver. Under the new waiting law, John knew it was impossible for Frank to get another weapon so soon unless his intended victim wasn’t a law-biding citizen. And John was counting on Frank to be a law-abiding sort.

As Frank neared Town Lake, he wished he had brought a flashlight. He couldn’t see the agent at all. So he went toward the shrubbery where he last heard the voice. “Hey, fellow, where are you?” Frank said. He felt foolish that he didn’t know the agent’s name.

“Here, right behind you.”

The voice startled Frank and he whirled around to face a well-built man wearing all black as though he was on a Special Forces recon night team. I’m in trouble, Frank thought, as he looked down the silencer barrel of a 9mm pistol. God, this guy is really good. “Did you kill the agent that was watching me?”

“I wasn’t paid to do that. Now, Frankie boy, let’s me and you take a walk to the shoreline.”

 

Dangerous Past is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99


Connect with A. Ebbers:

www.afebbers.com

On Facebook: A. F. Ebbers, Author

The Sky Between Two Worlds, Glen Books {FREE!}

The Sky Between Two Worlds, a Kindle Store Bestseller (No.2 in Technothrillers (free) on Jan.27 and No.3 in Military Science Fiction) is a fast-paced thriller of future conflict. Kantak Johnson, an Alaskan student at MIT, about to graduate and begin service in the air force, discovers a way to improve stealth aircraft. A professor learns of the invention and discloses it to hostile nations, tossing Kantak and friends into a morass of assassins, intrigue, and military conflict. And the world faces the danger of two opposing nuclear powers with stealth weapons that no one detect. Then an American drone strike goes tragically awry….

What readers are saying:

“A GREAT TECHNOTHRILLER/SCI-FI DEBUT-Joesph in Portland, ME
“a tantalizing plot…”-John White
“The setting is intriguing, and the characters expertly crafted.” Rev 357
“a GREAT READ…well written and hard to put down.”-Molly P.

The average Amazon reader review rating is currently 4.5 stars, with 15 reviews.

Click here to read more about and purchase The Sky Between Two Worlds forFREE at Amazon

 

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Call Me Tuesday, Leigh Byrne {$2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

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Description of Call Me Tuesday:

At eight-years-old, Tuesday Storm’s childhood is forever lost when tragedy sends her family spiraling out of control into irrevocable dysfunction. For no apparent reason, she’s singled out from her siblings, blamed for her family’s problems and targeted for unspeakable abuse. The loving environment she’s come to know becomes an endless nightmare of twisted punishments as she’s forced to confront the dark cruelty lurking inside the mother she idolizes. Based on a true story, Call Me Tuesday recounts, with raw emotion, a young girl’s physical and mental torment at the mercy of the monster in her mother’s clothes–a monster she doesn’t know how to stop loving. Tuesday’s painful journey through the hidden horrors of child abuse will open your eyes, and her unshakable love for her parents will tug at your heartstrings.

 

Accolades:

We are carried along, not able to put the book down – not wanting to hear more at times for it becomes almost too difficult to hear – but having to see it through, for we have come too close to Tuesday’s inner turmoil than to desert her now ~ David Lloyd, Virtual Muser eBook Review

Ms. Byrne delineates the normal reactions of outsiders: disbelief, fear of involvement, and the presumption that the child is bad. She also did not forget to detail the after-effects of abuse that continue long after it’s over, and the strange ways they can manifest. ~ Java Davis, The Kindle Book Review

The horror of the scenes is heightened by the author’s simple, straight-forward style… the prose is clean and flows well and the voice is tragically honest without being melodramatic. ~ Mayra Calvani, Blogcritics

A horrifying story inspired by true-life experience…the prose so vividly and evocatively portrays suffering.~ Kirkus

Tuesday Storm’s mother named her two daughters and three sons after movie stars, but what Tuesday’s mother does to her is hardly movie star quality and more shades of “Mommie Dearest”. ~ Alice D. for Reader’s Favorite

 

Amazon Reader Reviews:

Call Me Tuesday currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 4.4 stars, with 105 reviews! Read the reviews here!

 

Call Me Tuesday is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!


Excerpt from Of Call Me Tuesday:

SNAP

1

Mama knocked twice on my bedroom door. “There’s a god-awful stench coming from in there,” she said. “You need to take your bucket outside and empty it.”
At one time, when I first started using the bucket as a toilet, the acrid air in my room had burned the inside of my nose and everything I ate and drank tasted like the smell of pee. But now, after months of constant exposure, I hardly noticed it at all. I was only aware, whenever I left my room, that the air outside it was different, thinner, crisper—different.
I heard the two-by-four Mama kept wedged under my doorknob fall hard, as usual, as if she had kicked it away, but its impact to the floor was muffled by the carpet. Like an angry fist blocked by a pillow. The sound of the two-by-four falling was always the same. Every morning, as I waited for her to come and let me out to go to school, or do my chores, I listened for it with both anticipation and dread, hoping one day it would be different. I kept thinking if the sound was different then maybe other things beyond the door might be different too.
As I made my way down the stairs, balancing the half-full bucket against my thigh, I noticed the house was quiet for a Saturday. When I came to the bottom of the stairway, I looked around, and realized no one was home but Mama and me. I always got nervous when I was alone with her.
Passing the kitchen, I saw her leaning up against the counter stirring creamer into a cup of coffee. She hadn’t been up long; she still had on a sleeping gown and her hair was matted to the back of her head. When I walked by her, she glanced up at me and tapped her spoon on the side of her cup. “Make sure you take it far away from the house,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” I yelled, on my way out the door.
Out in the backyard, I found a grassy area under a tree and sat the bucket down. I had learned if I dumped the pee all at once it spread quickly on the surface of the baked earth, and sometimes my feet got wet. Pouring slowly, I watched the bucket’s contents seep into the grass and wrap its rusty fingers around the tree roots.
When I came back inside, Mama met me at the door. “I need some potatoes peeled for lunch,” she said, and then went into the kitchen again.
After I returned the bucket to my room, I stood before her awaiting my next instructions. She pointed to a corner where she’d spread some newspaper on the floor. “Sit down over there,” she said. Then she pulled a sack of potatoes from the pantry and plopped them beside me, along with a deep soup pan. She handed me a paring knife. “Now get to peeling.”
Taking a potato from the sack, I started to work right away. Mama went over to the counter, picked up her coffee and walked back and forth in front of me. Sipping her coffee, she continued to pace the floor, staring at me, her steps getting faster and faster, as she became fueled by the caffeine. I ignored her. Concentrated on the potato in my hand, on keeping the peeling the way she required it to be—thin enough to see through when she held it up to the light.
Finally, she stopped, tilted her head to one side. “I swear you get homelier every day,” she said.
If I had been younger I would have cried, crushed by her words. But in the last couple of years I’d become much tougher. So what, I thought, acting as if I hadn’t heard her. I don’t care what you think of me anymore.
“I thought you might get prettier when you became a teenager, but I do believe you’re even uglier than before.” She paused, took a long drink of her coffee, allowing enough time for what she’d said to really sink in. “Honestly, I feel sorry for you because I don’t know how you’re going to make it on your own. I mean, I always had men standing in line to take care of me, but with your face I doubt you’ll be able to find anyone.”
Sliding the knife blade under the peel of a fresh potato, I tried to imagine her at thirteen, a bubbly cheerleader with a head full of shiny red curls and perfect skin. It was a stretch. She had gained about thirty pounds in the last year or so, and her hair was brassy and brittle from constant bleaching. The scar from her accident, deep and severe, slashed across her cheek like a lightning bolt.
For several minutes, she went on walking and talking and I continued to ignore her. Every so often, I caught a glimpse of her as she passed, but I didn’t hear a word she was saying. The only sound I allowed into my head was the knife scraping across the potatoes.
When I had finished and there was a mountain of paper-thin peelings in front of me, Mama snatched up the pan filled with creamy, spotless potatoes. “Now pick up the papers and put them in the trash,” she said. “I have another chore for you to do.”
She pulled a brown paper grocery bag from a cabinet drawer and motioned for me to follow her into the family room. With her finger, she drew a series of small circles in the air above an area of the floor littered with crumpled potato chips. “I want you to pick up all the crumbs on the carpet in here. And don’t stop until this whole room is clean.”
She handed me the paper bag and I nodded my head, as if I understood her. But I didn’t. I had never understood why she made me use my fingers to pick up specks of dirt and food crumbs from the floor when she had a perfectly good vacuum cleaner.
On her way back to the kitchen, she stopped in the hallway. “On second thought, start there,” she said, pointing in the direction of the back door where there were dirt clods and mud ground into the carpet. “And then work your way up the hall into the family room.”
I trudged down the hall, dragging the paper bag beside me. When I came to the top of the steps leading to the door, I sat and stared at the dirty carpet wondering where Daddy and the boys had gone. Wishing I were with them.
About ten minutes later, Mama came back to check on my progress and found me sitting down on the job. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her voice reflecting disbelief more than anger.
Had it been a year, a month, or even a few days earlier, I would have been terrified of what she might do to me for disobeying her. I would have dropped to my knees and started picking up crumbs, scratching mud. But on this day, something was different. This day I didn’t budge when I heard her coming.
“Answer me!” she shouted.
I didn’t turn around.
Suddenly I heard the rapid pounding of her feet against the floor behind me. “Answer me!” she shouted again, but this time with her words came the blunt force of her foot in the small of my back. I felt a hot pain in my kidney. “I said answer me damn it!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her cock her leg back to kick me again. But before she could deliver the blow, I sprang to my feet, grabbed her by one of her wrists and dug my fingers into the soft flesh of the underside of her forearm.
Looking down into her eyes, I tried to decipher what she was feeling from a facial expression I’d never before seen. I had known my mama at her darkest time, in her deepest pain. And, certainly, I’d witnessed her anger again and again. But never, under the safety of Daddy’s six foot seven inch wingspan, had I known her to be afraid.
“My name is Tuesday, Mama!” I said, twisting her arm, slightly. “Say my name! Say it! Say Tuesday!”
The words had come out of my mouth, and yet, the voice I heard, full of vengeance and bitterness, sounded strangely foreign to my ears. One part of me was entirely detached from what was happening, as if I were watching some mean, crazed intruder hurting my mama. At the same time, another part was well aware of what I was doing, of every detail of the instant: the blood rushing through my head, the smell of coffee on her breath, her pulse throbbing under my hand.
“I’ll call you what I damn well please!” A grimace cut across her face. “Take your hands off me!”
I tightened my grip. “Don’t you think you’ve punished me enough, Mama? Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough for what I did? I can’t take it anymore! I won’t take it anymore!”
She tugged her arm back, trying to pull free of my clutch. “Take your hands off me—now!” she demanded.
Then, in an instant, something—maybe it was the tone of her voice—caused the courage I had seconds earlier to desert me and I dropped her arm like it was a hot wire. And once again I became a frightened child, ready to obey her every command in the same instinctive way I had always obeyed her.
After what I’d just done, I expected her to attack me. This time I wanted her to. This time I’d asked for it, deserved it. I braced myself for the punch I knew was inevitable.
But nothing happened.
Maybe she had seen something in my eyes when I was squeezing her arm and knew if she made an attempt to hurt me again it would unleash all the rage I had pent up inside, the rage she had created. Maybe now she was scared of me.
She looked down at her arm and examined the purple crescents my fingernails had imprinted there. When she finally looked up again, I saw that her complexion was colorless, her bottom lip quivering. We stood face to face, stunned, as if neither of us was able to process what had happened, as if neither of us knew what to do next.
“Get out of my sight,” she said, trying to sound in control with a voice that was thin and shaky. “Go to your room—now!”
Pushing past her, I bounded up the stairs, clearing two at a time. When I got in my room, I shut the door behind me and pressed my back up against it.
After a few minutes, I heard Mama wedge the two-by-four under my doorknob again. All at once, my legs gave out and I slid down to the floor. “I’m sorry, Mama!” I cried out to her, as she walked down the stairs. “I didn’t mean it!”

 

Call Me Tuesday is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for 21.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!


Connect with Leigh Byrne:

Salty Miss Tenderloin, Jacki Lyon {$2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

SALTY MISS TENDERLOIN is a fiercely tender novel by award winning writer Jacki Lyon. Never shying away from the dark side of humanity, Lyon introduces Starlight Nox, a scrappy girl born on the gritty streets of San Francisco’s Tenderloin District when Jimi Hendrix and the Vietnam War are center stage.

Starlight learns at an early age to rummage food from dumpsters and collect clothes from the corner charity for survival. When the girl’s father dies with a needle in his arm and her mother disappears searching for her next fix, the forsaken twelve-year-old is adopted by wealthy grandparents. Uprooted from San Francisco to Cincinnati, Star spends the next two decades learning that danger doesn’t lurk just in pimps and pill pushers on Turk Street. She discovers that evil finds a welcome host in tailored suits and Chanel dresses and even glossy church pews. Star calls on her early, bitter lessons from the streets to navigate the more sinister roads she travels as a young woman.

SALTY MISS TENDERLOIN is a poignant coming-of-age story that proves the transition from child to adult is a process that repeats itself many times in life. Coming-of-age is about survival. For the lucky, the change begins with a raging gnaw of desire; for the unlucky, the change begins with a crying gnaw of hunger. For Starlight Nox, the treacherous journey begins much too early in life and continues to test her ability to grow and persevere, time and time again.

What readers are saying:

Jacki Dillon Lyon hit a home run again!!! I loved this book. Star is a character that you will fall in love with because of her determination, loyalty to her friends and grandmother and her ability to keep it all together at times . . . Get your book groups to read this. You will not be disappointed. Barb Rohs, Cincinnati, Ohio

I just finished reading Salty Miss Tenderloin and am not ready to let the heroine, Star, go. Jacki Lyon has written an awesome novel, but more importantly, she’s shown through Star, that regardless what life offers, one can find the strength to overcome adversity and perservere! Becki D., Sarasota, Florida

The average Amazon Review Rating is currently 5 Stars {5 reviews}.

Click here to read more about and purchase Salty Miss Tenderloin for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek), Brenda Novak {$1.99}

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Description of When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek):

Simon O’Neal’s causing trouble again. And it’s up to Gail DeMarco to stop him.

Gail DeMarco left Whiskey Creek, California, to make a name for herself in Los Angeles. Her PR firm has accumulated a roster of A-list clients, including the biggest box office hit of all—sexy and unpredictable Simon O’Neal. But Simon, who’s just been through a turbulent divorce, is so busy self-destructing he won’t listen to anything she says. She drops him from her list—and he retaliates by taking the rest of her clients with him.

Desperate to save her company, Gail has to humble herself by making a deal with Simon. The one thing he wants is custody of his son, but that’s going to require a whole new image. He needs to marry some squeaky-clean girl who’ll drag him off to some small, obscure place like Whiskey Creek….

Gail’s the only one he can trust. She agrees to become his wife—reluctantly. But she isn’t reluctant because he’s too hard to like. It’s because he’s too hard not to love!

 

Accolades:

National Reader’s Choice Finalist!
Write Touch Reader’s Award Finalist!
Book Buyer’s Best Finalist!

“Brenda Novak is always a joy to read–and never more than with this new series!” #1 New York Times Bestselling Author Debbie Macomber

“A rare treat! Brenda Novak draws you in from the first page!”
#1 New York Times Bestselling Author Barbara Freethy

 

Amazon Reader Reviews:

When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek) currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 4.6 stars, with 72 reviews! Read the reviews here!

 

When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek) is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $1.99


Excerpt from Of When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek):

Simon spotted Gail almost immediately. In a sea of silicone, Botox and spray tans, she stood out. Maybe it was her chest, flat by L.A. standards, the severe cut of her business suit with its starched white shirt or the stubborn set to her jaw. Or maybe it was her general disdain for the Hollywood crowd and her unwillingness to dress up and join the fun.
Regardless, Simon had always liked the fact that she wasn’t an adoring fan—almost as much as he hated it. One would think she’d at least try to blend in, if she was going to crash the party. He was fairly certain she hadn’t received an invitation.
“What’s wrong?”
He jerked his gaze back to the stunning blonde sitting in the booth next to him. A “hot yoga” instructor he’d met through a friend, her name was Sunny Something and she was smarter than the stereotype her short skirt and low-cut blouse brought to mind. She was a nice person, too. But he was bored. These days the women he socialized with seemed almost interchangeable.
“Nothing.” He tossed back the rest of his drink. “Why?”
She angled her head to be able to see where he’d been looking but skimmed right over Gail. She probably couldn’t imagine such a nondescript woman being of any consequence to him. If not for the guilt that plagued him, he probably wouldn’t have given Gail a second thought. When he’d told Ian Callister, his business manager, that he wished she’d go broke and return to the small town she called home, he hadn’t meant it literally. He’d been drunk when he made that statement. But Ian had decided to take revenge for the damage her defection had caused, and Simon had been preoccupied and angry enough to turn a blind eye to it. He hadn’t even asked what Ian was up to. Part of him figured Gail DeMarco deserved whatever she got. The other part didn’t see why Ian would go to too much trouble.
But just yesterday he’d learned that Ian had stripped her of almost every client.
“You were frowning,” Sunny said. “Is there someone here you’re not happy to see?”
“No,” he lied.
“What did you say?”
She couldn’t hear him for the music. He raised his voice. “Just getting tired, that’s all.”
“Tired? Already?” She offered him a pout. “It’s barely ten o’clock.”
His lack of interest was an insult to such a sought-after woman. He understood that. If he were a better man he’d pretend to be entertained, but he simply couldn’t fake it. Not tonight. He did enough acting when the cameras were rolling. Besides, he didn’t care if she moved on to someone more attentive. He’d been telling the truth when he said he was tired. He’d been tired since before he came, hadn’t slept in days. Every time his mind grew quiet, the regret that tortured him constantly swallowed him whole.
“Would you like another drink?” he asked.
She didn’t get a chance to answer. When Gail started making her way over, his attention shifted. She’d located him, as he knew she would. She was nothing if not focused. And it wasn’t as if he could disappear into the crowd. He was always the center of attention whether he wanted to be or not.
What would happen from here, however, was anyone’s guess. He’d never dreamed his ex-PR agent would have the moxie to show up at such an event, where he’d be surrounded by friends and supporters, not to mention the regular contingent of hangers on–people who were willing to kiss his ass regardless of what he did.
The girl had guts. He had to give her that.
“Simon?”
He gazed up at her from beneath his eyelashes, as if he was too lazy or intoxicated to move. Maybe his temper had sparked the conflagration that’d consumed her business, but he hadn’t intended for Ian to be quite so vindictive and didn’t want to take responsibility for it. Barring a few minor faults, Ian was a good manager. He’d certainly never done anything like this before. She could call Ian if she wanted to talk. It wasn’t as if she was entirely innocent; she’d vented her fury by making a series of unflattering statements that’d wound up in the press.
Maybe when Simon O’Neal grows up, he’ll realize that women are good for more than one thing….
Simon O’Neal is his own worst enemy. He hates himself in direct proportion to everyone else’s admiration. Why, is anyone’s guess. The guy’s had it all. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no excuse for his actions….
Maybe some people find him attractive. But I wouldn’t sleep with him if he were the last man on earth. There’s no telling what kind of disease he’s carrying….
There were others he couldn’t remember verbatim. A comment about him needing more therapy than even a fortune like his could support, as well another about him being a waste of God-given talent, a man without decency, a charming Dr. Jekyll on screen and an evil Mr. Hyde off….
“What can I do for you?” he replied, using the same overly polite tone with which she’d addressed him.
She lifted her chin. “Could I have a word with you, please?”
Was she crazy? He had no interest in walking off with her. “’Fraid not. Maybe you don’t remember, but we don’t have anything to discuss these days. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m with someone.” He could feel Sunny’s interest in their exchange; she watched them but didn’t say anything.
Gail ignored her completely. “It’ll just take a minute.”
He flicked his hand, hoping she’d interpret the gesture for what it was—an indication that she should take herself off. “I’m busy.”
Unfortunately, she didn’t go anywhere. With a decisive tug on her tailored jacket, she cleared her throat. “Fine. We’ll talk here. I-I’d like to offer you an apology.”
He didn’t want an apology. People were beginning to stare, to realize she was the PR lady who’d dissed him so badly. Everyone would want to hear what she had to say; he should get rid of her as soon as possible. But she’d just offered him an opportunity to challenge the integrity she clung to like a battle shield, and he couldn’t resist.
“Are you saying you didn’t mean all the terrible things you said about me?” he drawled.
She couldn’t go quite that far. She hesitated while searching for words, eventually coming up with a response designed to placate without being overtly untruthful. “I shouldn’t have said them.”
Damn right she shouldn’t have said them! She’d drawn first blood. She’d been so sanctimonious while sitting on the throne of her PR empire that Ian had shown her just how vulnerable she was. It’d been tit for tat, no big deal. And as far as Simon was concerned, their little…disagreement was over.
“No problem. I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if you are,” he said. “Have a nice night.”
“That’s it?” Her blue eyes widened.
He slung an arm around his date, slouching into her so he’d look comfortable and cozy and unlikely to go anywhere. “Were you hoping for more?”
Her bottom lip quivered as tears filled her eyes.
Ah, shit.
“I was hoping that maybe you might—”
Jerry Russell, the director of his latest project, interrupted by walking up and bending to see into her face. “What’s going on here? You making the ladies cry already, Simon?”
“You got trouble, Simon?” someone else piped up, and that was all it took to send a murmur through the crowd that made everyone turn toward him.
Tears rolled down Gail’s cheeks. He could tell she was trying to hold back but that only seemed to make matters worse. She was emotionally strung out and under scrutiny….
He had to get her out of here before he wound up on the front page of the tabloids yet again. One picture of her sorrowful face and some stupid paparazzi would report that he’d purposely and vengefully acted to destroy her: Box Office Hit Simon O’Neal Sends Small Town PR Girl Packing. Which, thanks to Ian, was close enough to the truth that he wouldn’t even be able to fight it.
He couldn’t afford to give his ex-wife any more fodder for the bitter war she was waging. If he didn’t clean up his act he’d never gain custody of his son. The judge had been very firm about that.
“No trouble,” he said with a reassuring smile and, telling Sunny he’d be right back, slid out of the booth. “It’s damn hot in here. I think we’ll get some air.”
Taking Gail’s hand, to throw any curious onlookers off the scent of a possible disagreement, he led her at a measured pace, nodding and exchanging greetings as they passed through the crowd to an expensively appointed back room, one that’d been designated for his use. No one ever specified what such a room was for because it was for anything he wanted. He could do drugs in here, have sex, throw a smaller, more private party…whatever.
He’d never been more grateful for it than now.
“What were you thinking coming here?” he growled as soon as he closed the door securely behind them. “And for the love of God would you stop crying?”
She dashed a hand across her face. “I’m sorry. I…I’m embarrassed, but…I can’t seem to help it.”
Tears made him feel inadequate. Especially coming from her. She’d always been so composed. “Try harder.”
“Thanks for the empathy,” she ground out.
Partially so he wouldn’t have to look at her, he crossed the room and poured a glass of champagne from the bottle that’d been left on ice, then pressed it into her hands. “Here, maybe this will help.”
“I don’t drink.”
He grimaced. “One of the many reasons I don’t like you. Drink it anyway.”
She downed it as if it was mere water and the resulting coughing fit distracted her enough that she was able to shut off the waterworks.
“So what is it you want from me?” he asked. “How do I make this…go away?”
The shrewdness in her eyes returned. “You mean me? How do you make me go away?”
After taking a second to think about it, he shrugged. “Basically, yeah.”
“You can say that so nonchalantly after destroying my business?”
He considered explaining that he hadn’t been as actively involved as she might imagine, but didn’t bother. He doubted she’d believe him, anyway. “You need money, is that it?”
“No! I want my old clients back. And not for my sake–well, not entirely. The way things sit right now, I’ll have to let my employees go, and…they need their jobs.”
Her situation was that dire? Already? He was going to kill Ian. Why’d he have to take it so damn far? “Fine. I’ll see what I can do to reverse the damage. Call me next week. Good enough? Will you go home now and…watch TV or reorganize your cupboards or whatever exciting thing such a fastidious person does in her spare time? Maybe you can go online and look for a dress that would be appropriate for a party such as this.”
He could tell she was tempted to land a good jab of her own. He knew she was capable of it. But held her tongue. With a sniff and a nod, she handed him the glass he’d provided and started to leave.
“And Gail?”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“I don’t have a disease, sexually transmitted or otherwise.”
At least she had the decency to blush. “Sorry,” she muttered and slipped out.

 

When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek) is available for purchase at:

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THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Anne of Green Gables Collection: 12 Books, Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island, Anne’s House of Dreams, Rainbow Valley, Rilla of Ingleside, Chronicles of Avonlea, PLUS MORE!, Lucy M. Montgomery {$0.99}

Sponsored Post

Lucy M. Montgomery’s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description:

Doma Publishing presents to you The Anne of Green Gables Collection, which has been designed and formatted specifically for your Amazon Kindle. Unlike other e-book editions, the text and chapters are perfectly set up to match the layout and feel of a physical copy, rather than being haphazardly thrown together for a quick release.

This edition also comes with a linked Table of Contents for both the list of included books and their respective chapters. Navigation couldn’t be easier.Purchase this Anne of Green Gables Series and treat yourself to the following list of works featuring the lovable Anne Shirley and writen by L. M. Montgomery:Anne of Green Gables Series, Anne Shirley’s age: 

  • Anne of Green Gables, (1908), 11-16
  • Anne of Avonlea, (1909), 16-18
  • Anne of the Island, (1915), 18-22
  • Anne’s House of Dreams, (1917), 25-27
  • Rainbow Valley, (1919), 41
  • Rilla of Ingleside, (1921), 49-53

Related books featuring Anne Shirley:

  • Chronicles of Avonlea (1912)
  • Further Chronicles of Avonlea (1920)
Poetry Collection:

  • The Watchman, and Other Poems

*BONUS other works by Lucy Maud Montgomery:

  • Kilmeny of the Orchard (1910)
  • The Story Girl (1911)
  • The Golden Road(1913)

Note: This Series is missing Anne of The Ingleside and Anne of Windy Poplars. Unfortunately, the rights for these two books aren’t yet available for Kindle publishing. To make up for it, we also included Bonus Books of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and Call of the Wild by Jack London. Enjoy!

Thank you for choosing Doma House Publishing. We look forward to creating many more affordable Kindle Classics for you to enjoy!

 

Accolade:

“This is a great compilation of 11 Anne of Green Gables books! I chose this edition after sampling various other less quality versions on Amazon. The eBook is very well formatted and reads like a charm on my Kindle 2. As a long-time Anne of Green Gables reader, having this compilation is great for when I feel like revisiting Anne of Avonlea or Anne’s House of Dreams. These are truly wonderful stories and you just get lost in the world of Green Gables thanks to Lucy Maud Montgomery’s fantastic use of imagery.” A.S. Belleview

“This collection contains some of famed Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery’s best work, including the first six novels about her incomparable character, the imaginative red-haired orphan Anne Shirley, who grew up on the Prince Edward Island farm of Green Gables.

“Anne of Green Gables” is the introduction to Montgomery’s heroine, who comes to a bachelor farmer and his spinster sister by mistake, and ends up making a family out of them. The novels included in this collection cover her childhood, her time as a young school marm, her college romance, the early years of her marriage to a country doctor, and the raising of her many children. The concluding novel centers on the coming of age of Anne’s youngest daughter during the difficult days of the First World War.” D. S. Thurlow

“If you have downloaded the free editions of these books on your Kindle before, you have probably noticed the poor formatting and lack of Table of Contents which makes navigation difficult. This Collection has been formatted to match the layout and quality you can expect with a quality printed edition, and also includes linked Tables of Contents to navigate through the different books and their respective chapters. For a few dollars, it is definitely worth the price…”

 

Amazon Reader Reviews:

Anne of Green Gables Collection currently has an Amazon Reader Review rating of 4.6 stars, with 167 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

An excerpt from Anne of Green Gables Collection:

Book 1 – Anne of Green Gables – by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies’ eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde’s Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.

There are plenty of people in Avonlea and out of it, who can attend closely to their neighbor’s business by dint of neglecting their own; but Mrs. Rachel Lynde was one of those capable creatures who can manage their own concerns and those of other folks into the bargain. She was a notable housewife; her work was always done and well done; she “ran” the Sewing Circle, helped run the Sunday-school, and was the strongest prop of the Church Aid Society and Foreign Missions Auxiliary. Yet with all this Mrs. Rachel found abundant time to sit for hours at her kitchen window, knitting “cotton warp” quilts—she had knitted sixteen of them, as Avonlea housekeepers were wont to tell in awed voices—and keeping a sharp eye on the main road that crossed the hollow and wound up the steep red hill beyond. Since Avonlea occupied a little triangular peninsula jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence with water on two sides of it, anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over that hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of Mrs. Rachel’s all-seeing eye.

She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. The sun was coming in at the window warm and bright; the orchard on the slope below the house was in a bridal flush of pinky-white bloom, hummed over by a myriad of bees. Thomas Lynde—a meek little man whom Avonlea people called “Rachel Lynde’s husband”—was sowing his late turnip seed on the hill field beyond the barn; and Matthew Cuthbert ought to have been sowing his on the big red brook field away over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel knew that he ought because she had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before in William J. Blair’s store over at Carmody that he meant to sow his turnip seed the next afternoon. Peter had asked him, of course, for Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life.

And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on the afternoon of a busy day, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill; moreover, he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea; and he had the buggy and the sorrel mare, which betokened that he was going a considerable distance. Now, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there?

Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. Rachel, deftly putting this and that together, might have given a pretty good guess as to both questions. But Matthew so rarely went from home that it must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him; he was the shyest man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have to talk. Matthew, dressed up with a white collar and driving in a buggy, was something that didn’t happen often. Mrs. Rachel, ponder as she might, could make nothing of it and her afternoon’s enjoyment was spoiled.

“I’ll just step over to Green Gables after tea and find out from Marilla where he’s gone and why,” the worthy woman finally concluded. “He doesn’t generally go to town this time of year and he NEVER visits; if he’d run out of turnip seed he wouldn’t dress up and take the buggy to go for more; he wasn’t driving fast enough to be going for a doctor. Yet something must have happened since last night to start him off. I’m clean puzzled, that’s what, and I won’t know a minute’s peace of mind or conscience until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today.”

Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she had not far to go; the big, rambling, orchard-embowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde’s Hollow. To be sure, the long lane made it a good deal further. Matthew Cuthbert’s father, as shy and silent as his son after him, had got as far away as he possibly could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods when he founded his homestead. Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day, barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were so sociably situated. Mrs. Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place LIVING at all.

“It’s just STAYING, that’s what,” she said as she stepped along the deep-rutted, grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. “It’s no wonder Matthew and Marilla are both a little odd, living away back here by themselves. Trees aren’t much company, though dear knows if they were there’d be enough of them. I’d ruther look at people. To be sure, they seem contented enough; but then, I suppose, they’re used to it. A body can get used to anything, even to being hanged, as the Irishman said.”

With this Mrs. Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green Gables. Very green and neat and precise was that yard, set about on one side with great patriarchal willows and the other with prim Lombardies. Not a stray stick nor stone was to be seen, for Mrs. Rachel would have seen it if there had been. Privately she was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard over as often as she swept her house. One could have eaten a meal off the ground without overbrimming the proverbial peck of dirt.

Mrs. Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door and stepped in when bidden to do so. The kitchen at Green Gables was a cheerful apartment—or would have been cheerful if it had not been so painfully clean as to give it something of the appearance of an unused parlor. Its windows looked east and west; through the west one, looking out on the back yard, came a flood of mellow June sunlight; but the east one, whence you got a glimpse of the bloom white cherry-trees in the left orchard and nodding, slender birches down in the hollow by the brook, was greened over by a tangle of vines. Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, always slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously; and here she sat now, knitting, and the table behind her was laid for supper.

Mrs. Rachel, before she had fairly closed the door, had taken a mental note of everything that was on that table. There were three plates laid, so that Marilla must be expecting some one home with Matthew to tea; but the dishes were everyday dishes and there was only crab-apple preserves and one kind of cake, so that the expected company could not be any particular company. Yet what of Matthew’s white collar and the sorrel mare? Mrs. Rachel was getting fairly dizzy with this unusual mystery about quiet, unmysterious Green Gables.

“Good evening, Rachel,” Marilla said briskly. “This is a real fine evening, isn’t it? Won’t you sit down? How are all your folks?”

Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel, in spite of—or perhaps because of—their dissimilarity.

Marilla was a tall, thin woman, with angles and without curves; her dark hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot behind with two wire hairpins stuck aggressively through it. She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience, which she was; but there was a saving something about her mouth which, if it had been ever so slightly developed, might have been considered indicative of a sense of humor.

“We’re all pretty well,” said Mrs. Rachel. “I was kind of afraid YOU weren’t, though, when I saw Matthew starting off today. I thought maybe he was going to the doctor’s.”

Marilla’s lips twitched understandingly. She had expected Mrs. Rachel up; she had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so unaccountably would be too much for her neighbor’s curiosity.

“Oh, no, I’m quite well although I had a bad headache yesterday,” she said. “Matthew went to Bright River. We’re getting a little boy from an orphan asylum in Nova Scotia and he’s coming on the train tonight.”

If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia Mrs. Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually stricken dumb for five seconds. It was unsupposable that Marilla was making fun of her, but Mrs. Rachel was almost forced to suppose it.

“Are you in earnest, Marilla?” she demanded when voice returned to her.

“Yes, of course,” said Marilla, as if getting boys from orphan asylums in Nova Scotia were part of the usual spring work on any well-regulated Avonlea farm instead of being an unheard of innovation.

Mrs. Rachel felt that she had received a severe mental jolt. She thought in exclamation points. A boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people adopting a boy! From an orphan asylum! Well, the world was certainly turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this! Nothing!

“What on earth put such a notion into your head?” she demanded disapprovingly.

This had been done without her advice being asked, and must perforce be disapproved…

 

Anne of Green Gables Collection is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99


Connect with Lucy M. Montgomery:

Author Website: twitter.com/domapublishing

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THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Anne of Green Gables Collection: 12 Books, Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island, Anne’s House of Dreams, Rainbow Valley, Rilla of Ingleside, Chronicles of Avonlea, PLUS MORE!, Lucy M. Montgomery {$0.99}

Sponsored Post

Lucy M. Montgomery’s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description:

Doma Publishing presents to you The Anne of Green Gables Collection, which has been designed and formatted specifically for your Amazon Kindle. Unlike other e-book editions, the text and chapters are perfectly set up to match the layout and feel of a physical copy, rather than being haphazardly thrown together for a quick release.

This edition also comes with a linked Table of Contents for both the list of included books and their respective chapters. Navigation couldn’t be easier.Purchase this Anne of Green Gables Series and treat yourself to the following list of works featuring the lovable Anne Shirley and writen by L. M. Montgomery:

Anne of Green Gables Series, Anne Shirley’s age: 

  • Anne of Green Gables, (1908), 11-16
  • Anne of Avonlea, (1909), 16-18
  • Anne of the Island, (1915), 18-22
  • Anne’s House of Dreams, (1917), 25-27
  • Rainbow Valley, (1919), 41
  • Rilla of Ingleside, (1921), 49-53

Related books featuring Anne Shirley:

  • Chronicles of Avonlea (1912)
  • Further Chronicles of Avonlea (1920)
Poetry Collection:

  • The Watchman, and Other Poems

*BONUS other works by Lucy Maud Montgomery:

  • Kilmeny of the Orchard (1910)
  • The Story Girl (1911)
  • The Golden Road(1913)

Note: This Series is missing Anne of The Ingleside and Anne of Windy Poplars. Unfortunately, the rights for these two books aren’t yet available for Kindle publishing. To make up for it, we also included Bonus Books of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and Call of the Wild by Jack London. Enjoy!

Thank you for choosing Doma House Publishing. We look forward to creating many more affordable Kindle Classics for you to enjoy!

 

Accolade:

“This is a great compilation of 11 Anne of Green Gables books! I chose this edition after sampling various other less quality versions on Amazon. The eBook is very well formatted and reads like a charm on my Kindle 2. As a long-time Anne of Green Gables reader, having this compilation is great for when I feel like revisiting Anne of Avonlea or Anne’s House of Dreams. These are truly wonderful stories and you just get lost in the world of Green Gables thanks to Lucy Maud Montgomery’s fantastic use of imagery.” A.S. Belleview

“This collection contains some of famed Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery’s best work, including the first six novels about her incomparable character, the imaginative red-haired orphan Anne Shirley, who grew up on the Prince Edward Island farm of Green Gables.

“Anne of Green Gables” is the introduction to Montgomery’s heroine, who comes to a bachelor farmer and his spinster sister by mistake, and ends up making a family out of them. The novels included in this collection cover her childhood, her time as a young school marm, her college romance, the early years of her marriage to a country doctor, and the raising of her many children. The concluding novel centers on the coming of age of Anne’s youngest daughter during the difficult days of the First World War.” D. S. Thurlow

“If you have downloaded the free editions of these books on your Kindle before, you have probably noticed the poor formatting and lack of Table of Contents which makes navigation difficult. This Collection has been formatted to match the layout and quality you can expect with a quality printed edition, and also includes linked Tables of Contents to navigate through the different books and their respective chapters. For a few dollars, it is definitely worth the price…”

Amazon Reader Reviews:

Anne of Green Gables Collection currently has an Amazon Reader Review rating of 4.6 stars, with 167 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

An excerpt from Anne of Green Gables Collection:

Book 1 – Anne of Green Gables – by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies’ eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde’s Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.

There are plenty of people in Avonlea and out of it, who can attend closely to their neighbor’s business by dint of neglecting their own; but Mrs. Rachel Lynde was one of those capable creatures who can manage their own concerns and those of other folks into the bargain. She was a notable housewife; her work was always done and well done; she “ran” the Sewing Circle, helped run the Sunday-school, and was the strongest prop of the Church Aid Society and Foreign Missions Auxiliary. Yet with all this Mrs. Rachel found abundant time to sit for hours at her kitchen window, knitting “cotton warp” quilts—she had knitted sixteen of them, as Avonlea housekeepers were wont to tell in awed voices—and keeping a sharp eye on the main road that crossed the hollow and wound up the steep red hill beyond. Since Avonlea occupied a little triangular peninsula jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence with water on two sides of it, anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over that hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of Mrs. Rachel’s all-seeing eye.

She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. The sun was coming in at the window warm and bright; the orchard on the slope below the house was in a bridal flush of pinky-white bloom, hummed over by a myriad of bees. Thomas Lynde—a meek little man whom Avonlea people called “Rachel Lynde’s husband”—was sowing his late turnip seed on the hill field beyond the barn; and Matthew Cuthbert ought to have been sowing his on the big red brook field away over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel knew that he ought because she had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before in William J. Blair’s store over at Carmody that he meant to sow his turnip seed the next afternoon. Peter had asked him, of course, for Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life.

And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on the afternoon of a busy day, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill; moreover, he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea; and he had the buggy and the sorrel mare, which betokened that he was going a considerable distance. Now, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there?

Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs. Rachel, deftly putting this and that together, might have given a pretty good guess as to both questions. But Matthew so rarely went from home that it must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him; he was the shyest man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have to talk. Matthew, dressed up with a white collar and driving in a buggy, was something that didn’t happen often. Mrs. Rachel, ponder as she might, could make nothing of it and her afternoon’s enjoyment was spoiled.

“I’ll just step over to Green Gables after tea and find out from Marilla where he’s gone and why,” the worthy woman finally concluded. “He doesn’t generally go to town this time of year and he NEVER visits; if he’d run out of turnip seed he wouldn’t dress up and take the buggy to go for more; he wasn’t driving fast enough to be going for a doctor. Yet something must have happened since last night to start him off. I’m clean puzzled, that’s what, and I won’t know a minute’s peace of mind or conscience until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today.”

Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she had not far to go; the big, rambling, orchard-embowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde’s Hollow. To be sure, the long lane made it a good deal further. Matthew Cuthbert’s father, as shy and silent as his son after him, had got as far away as he possibly could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods when he founded his homestead. Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day, barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were so sociably situated. Mrs. Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place LIVING at all.

“It’s just STAYING, that’s what,” she said as she stepped along the deep-rutted, grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. “It’s no wonder Matthew and Marilla are both a little odd, living away back here by themselves. Trees aren’t much company, though dear knows if they were there’d be enough of them. I’d ruther look at people. To be sure, they seem contented enough; but then, I suppose, they’re used to it. A body can get used to anything, even to being hanged, as the Irishman said.”

With this Mrs. Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green Gables. Very green and neat and precise was that yard, set about on one side with great patriarchal willows and the other with prim Lombardies. Not a stray stick nor stone was to be seen, for Mrs. Rachel would have seen it if there had been. Privately she was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard over as often as she swept her house. One could have eaten a meal off the ground without overbrimming the proverbial peck of dirt.

Mrs. Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door and stepped in when bidden to do so. The kitchen at Green Gables was a cheerful apartment—or would have been cheerful if it had not been so painfully clean as to give it something of the appearance of an unused parlor. Its windows looked east and west; through the west one, looking out on the back yard, came a flood of mellow June sunlight; but the east one, whence you got a glimpse of the bloom white cherry-trees in the left orchard and nodding, slender birches down in the hollow by the brook, was greened over by a tangle of vines. Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, always slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously; and here she sat now, knitting, and the table behind her was laid for supper.

Mrs. Rachel, before she had fairly closed the door, had taken a mental note of everything that was on that table. There were three plates laid, so that Marilla must be expecting some one home with Matthew to tea; but the dishes were everyday dishes and there was only crab-apple preserves and one kind of cake, so that the expected company could not be any particular company. Yet what of Matthew’s white collar and the sorrel mare? Mrs. Rachel was getting fairly dizzy with this unusual mystery about quiet, unmysterious Green Gables.

“Good evening, Rachel,” Marilla said briskly. “This is a real fine evening, isn’t it? Won’t you sit down? How are all your folks?”

Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel, in spite of—or perhaps because of—their dissimilarity.

Marilla was a tall, thin woman, with angles and without curves; her dark hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot behind with two wire hairpins stuck aggressively through it. She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience, which she was; but there was a saving something about her mouth which, if it had been ever so slightly developed, might have been considered indicative of a sense of humor.

“We’re all pretty well,” said Mrs. Rachel. “I was kind of afraid YOU weren’t, though, when I saw Matthew starting off today. I thought maybe he was going to the doctor’s.”

Marilla’s lips twitched understandingly. She had expected Mrs. Rachel up; she had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so unaccountably would be too much for her neighbor’s curiosity.

“Oh, no, I’m quite well although I had a bad headache yesterday,” she said. “Matthew went to Bright River. We’re getting a little boy from an orphan asylum in Nova Scotia and he’s coming on the train tonight.”

If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia Mrs. Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually stricken dumb for five seconds. It was unsupposable that Marilla was making fun of her, but Mrs. Rachel was almost forced to suppose it.

“Are you in earnest, Marilla?” she demanded when voice returned to her.

“Yes, of course,” said Marilla, as if getting boys from orphan asylums in Nova Scotia were part of the usual spring work on any well-regulated Avonlea farm instead of being an unheard of innovation.

Mrs. Rachel felt that she had received a severe mental jolt. She thought in exclamation points. A boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people adopting a boy! From an orphan asylum! Well, the world was certainly turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this! Nothing!

“What on earth put such a notion into your head?” she demanded disapprovingly.

This had been done without her advice being asked, and must perforce be disapproved…

 

Anne of Green Gables Collection is available for purchase at:

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Description:

Orphans Astrid Chalke and Max Fisher meet when they’re sent to live at Wakefield, a residential and educational facility for teens with psychiatric and behavioral problems. Astrid’s roommate cuts herself with anything sharp she can get her hands on and Max’s roommate threatens him upon introduction.

Just as Astrid and Max develop a strong bond and begin to adjust to the constant chaos surrounding them, a charming and mysterious resident of Wakefield named Teddy claims he has unexplainable abilities. Sometimes he can move things without touching them. Sometimes he can see people’s voices flowing out of their mouths. Teddy also thinks that some of the Wakefield staff are on to him.

At first, Astrid and Max think Teddy is paranoid, but Max’s strange recurring dreams and a series of unsettling events force them to reconsider Teddy’s claims. Are they a product of his supposedly disturbed mind or is the truth stranger than insanity?

 

Accolade:

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“Great story, anxious to read the next chapter. Encouraging all to buy and enjoy! Great setting, authentic, well written. Could be read by teens and adults.” – Amazon customer

“outstanding writing, strong characters and interesting plot make this book hard to put down. i look forward to the next book!” – Amazon customer

“Very fun story. The dual narration allowed for multiple perspectives on the storyline as well as great character development. It was fun getting to know the characters through different sets of eyes, including their own. Can’t wait for the second book to be released.” – Amazon customer

Amazon Reader Reviews:

Wakefield (The Mad World Saga Series) currently has an Amazon Reader Review rating of 3.9 stars, with 14 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

An excerpt from Wakefield (The Mad World Saga Series):

I ran a hand lightly against the cold wall, imagining the force it would take to smash through it. The yellow lights above shone with a dull intensity that turned my stomach. The doors all matched, and I felt claustrophobic. The only thing that broke up the monotony was the random graffiti scribbled on the walls. Most of it had been scrubbed off, but I could make out faint lines here and there. They were like ghosts, just out of reach. Realizing I wouldn’t be able to leave these walls, I slunk down to the shiny, white floor and nearly cried.
“Hey,” a timid voice called out. It was the goth kid I’d noticed earlier. He was bone thin and had a long mop of straight hair that matched his black shirt and pants. He pushed the hair out of his face; the movement showed off his seven or eight bracelets.
I ignored him completely, so he approached very slowly and said, “You’ll get your regular clothes back tomorrow.”
“Yeah?”
“They give them back the next day.” He bobbed his head. He was younger than I was, but I couldn’t tell by how much. Dark hair covered half his face, which made him look younger, or he might have been little for his age.
“I look stupid,” I confided.
“Yeah, those suck,” he went on. “They made me feel like a tool when I got here. But you won’t have to wear them again. I haven’t.”
“That’s cool.”
“So, welcome to Newton,” he said with a half grin.
“Newton?”
“Yeah, this part of the building. We have to pretty much stay in our own area. There are three other units—Whitehall, Lancre, and McCarthy. We’re the best.”
“Clearly. I’m Max,” I introduced myself as he sat down against the opposite wall. He acted like I was a dangerous animal, moving slowly, like I might pounce at any minute. The woman at the staff desk looked up over her laptop for about twenty seconds before going back to whatever she was doing. I wondered if he thought he was fast enough to outrun me. I doubted he was. “So what do I call you?”
“Uh, I’m Azrael,” he told me shyly. He looked away, down the hall, in case I’d laugh at him.
“Your name is Azrael?” I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to scare him off, but it was a weird name.
“No,” he admitted and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s really Jon Applegarth, but I like Azrael better. It’s stupid, I guess.” He shrugged and let out a deep breath. I could tell he was not a fan of Wakefield.
“Did you get your name from the cat in The Smurfs?” I asked.
“No, I just like it. It sounds vampiric,” he said, brown eyes glistening with excitement.
“All right. Azrael it is then,” I reassured this kid.
He turned his face back to me and grinned. He had a tiny row of neat, little teeth.
“So, Simon’s your roommate, huh?” he asked, though he was fully aware of the answer.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I’m sorry,” he squinted at me, lowering his voice.
“He’s that bad?”
“Some guys like him. Couple of the girls do, too,” Azrael told me. “I stay away if I can.”
“Maybe he’ll be cool to me.” I shrugged.
“Yeah, maybe,” Azrael lied. “I gotta go.”
I doubted Azrael had any pressing business to take care of, but I didn’t say anything as he stood up and skittered away. This wasn’t the sort of place you tell people how you really feel. I’d have to start practicing biting my tongue and letting people do what they want. At least it was nice of Azrael to sit with me for a few minutes, even though he only worried me about Simon. If people liked me before I came here, then why wouldn’t they like me here at Wakefield?
A fat guy, older than me, left a room up ahead. He looked at me for a few seconds and then continued on to the bathroom. I hung my head low as I stood and walked down the hall to stare at my darkened reflection in the small window. It was gray outside, and I couldn’t see much, but I would have given anything to be on the other side of that glass. It showed me a face that looked at least two years older than the last time I’d seen myself. Maybe I could get into R rated movies now. If only they’d let me out to see movies. I went back to my room, where Simon sat at his desk.
“Hey, do they ever let us out to the movies?” I asked Simon.
He grunted, so I sat on the empty bed to wait for my stuff to come. I didn’t know how long it would take the state social worker to bring my things to Wakefield or the staff to pour through all my belongings. I’d later hear how they’d go through all the pockets and seams for anything cutters use. They’d also check my music and movies to make sure none of it was inappropriate.
My “new” dresser was a simple, beat up, wooden monstrosity shoved against the wall. At least it looked more inviting than the bed I sat on. It was a wooden box with eight holes on the sides for straps to pass through in case the staff needed to restrain anyone in their rooms. Small rails cradled the thin, uncomfortable mattress.
Then I noticed a small rectangular camera hanging from the ceiling.
“Um, do all the rooms have cameras? Is that thing on?” I asked Simon.
“Yeah, dumbass, it’s on. And no, not every room has one. But because of your newbie ass, I have to live with a camera until they decide to trust you. Thanks a lot.”
At least I knew why Simon was angry with me.

 

Wakefield (The Mad World Saga Series) is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $5.95


Connect with Troy H. Gardner & Erin Callahan:

Author Website: madworldseries.com

Author Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MadWorldSeries

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