THE FRUGAL FIND{S} OF THE DAY: 16 eBooks on Sale for $0.99 Each! {Don’t miss this sale!}

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THE FRUGAL FINDS OF THE DAY!:

 

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Don’t miss the Post-Holiday Genre Potpourri Event!

Starting on 1/24/13, 14 authors will offer their eBooks for 99 cents.

That’s 16 eBooks, each for only 99 cents.

Choose from Literary Fiction, Fantasy, Women’s Fiction, Romance and Young Adult.

 Below are the list of eBooks!

All the Lonely People 

Deeds of a Master Archer

Me Again

Falling Under

Storykeeper

How to Cook Up A Disaster

Sweetwater American

The Thief Who Stole Midnight

Stella and Dane: A Honky Tonk Romance

Family Deceptions

The Family Angel

As Crazy As You

Rumpel, A Cursed Tales Novel

The Color of Water in July: A Novel

In the Jungle of Black and Yellow

It Started With A Whisper

 Click here to find all 16 eBooks on Amazon for $0.99!

Connect with the authors:

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/99CentPostHolidayGenrePotpourriEvent

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: One Pink Line, Dina Silver {$2.99}

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Dina Silver‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of One Pink Line:

**WINNER of the 2012 Eric Hoffer da Vinci Eye Award for outstanding cover art**

**HONORABLE MENTION in the 2012 Beach Book Festival for General Fiction**

**FINALIST in the 2012 Indie Reader Discovery Awards - and selected as a 2012 Indie Reader ‘Top Title’**

Can the love of a lifetime be forever changed by one pink line? Dina Silver’s tender, absorbing novel, One Pink Line, is the warmhearted, wry story of love, loss and family, as seen through the prism of one singular, spirited young couple who find themselves in a predicament that changes the course of their lives, and those closest to them. With heart, humor and compassion, this debut work of women’s fiction is certain to stir anyone who relishes a good laugh, can stand a good cry, and, above all believes in the redemptive power of love.

This unique, contemporary story gives readers a dual perspective. Sydney Shephard, a sweet-tempered, strong-natured college senior is young, in love with an exceptional man, and unexpectedly pregnant. Faced with a child she never planned for, she is forced to relay this news to her neurotic mother, relinquish her youth, and risk losing the love of her life. Then there’s Grace, a daughter, who believed she was a product of this great love, grows to realize her existence is not what she assumed, and is left with profound and puzzling questions about who she really is.

Spanning generations and every imaginable emotion, One Pink Line reveals how two points of view can be dramatically at odds, and perhaps ultimately reconciled. Simultaneously deeply felt and lighthearted, One Pink Line deftly mines how the choices we make are able to alter so many lives, and how doing the right thing and living honestly can bring unexpected, hard-won happiness. It’s a must-read for anyone who craves a great love story, absorbing characters, and plenty of laughs along the way.

 

Accolades:

“It’s heartfelt, emotional, funny, sad, and happy all rolled into one engaging story that will keep you hooked, with characters that you come to care about quickly and root for. A fantastic read!” – Author, Sibel Hodge

“The skillful transitioning and Silver’s clear, concise writing make for an engrossing read, as two stories unfold from two viewpoints and generations.” – IndieReader.com for USA Today

“Nothing makes me happier than when a debut author has a hit right out of the gate.” – Mrs. Mommy Booknerd Blog


Reviews:

One Pink Line currently has a customer review rating of 4.5 stars from 120 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

One Pink Line is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99

 

An excerpt from One Pink Line:

CHAPTER ONE
Sydney

Finals week hit me like a gust of wind, and before I knew it, I was cramming for my last round of college exams, and trying to convince my mother to let me move back home after graduation. It was 1991, and she’d just started taking Prozac that year, so there was hope. A couple months earlier, after attending Purdue’s spring career day, I sent my resume to five hotels in the Chicago area, and was offered an entry-level job at the InterContinental on Michigan Avenue. I was due to start August 1st of that year, but had to get through finals, graduation, and potentially another summer living at home with that woman.

I knew my Spanish exam would be the hardest, because I barely paid any attention in that class, so I dedicated the most studying hours to that particular subject. Thursday night, as the intricacies of foreign grammar loomed heavily on mi cerebro, it occurred to me that I hadn’t had my period in a while. How that uncertainty popped into my head at that particular moment, I have no idea. My conscience had snuck up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder, and derailed my train of thought.

I remembered the last time I’d had it though, because I was trapped in an English Lit lecture hall with no panty liner, no tampon, and no break for an hour. As soon as the bell rang I sprinted to the bathroom, only to discover the tampon dispenser hadn’t been refilled since the turn of the century. It was a long, slow walk home with a wad of parchment-like toilet paper shifting around in my panties.

I grabbed my day planner and started flipping back through the pages to check the date of that lecture. The topic was Wicked Women, and it was exactly eight weeks before finals. A small cloud of wicked panic moved in overhead as I realized I might be pregnant.

I grabbed the phone book and dialed the number for Wal-Mart. The woman who answered told me they were open until ten o’clock every evening, which meant I had exactly twenty-five minutes to get there. Unlike my mother’s support, my menstrual cycle was always something I could count on, which is why I quickly abandoned my books that night and drove to the nearest, yet not-so-near-someone-might-see-me, super store. I convinced myself during the fifteen-minute ride that I was not pregnant. It had to be the stress of finals, the end-of-college anticipation, and starting my big girl job that was causing my ovaries to rebel. However, there was not a chance I would get through exam week without confirmation either way.

The Wal-Mart was just off State Road 52 and noticeably cleaner than the one back home. When I arrived ten minutes before closing, it was nearly empty, with the exception of a few weary people in the checkout lanes. I raced past them toward the sobering and well-lit Pharmacy aisles, and managed to find the pregnancy tests ironically right next to the contraceptives. It took me all of four minutes to grab one, pay for it, and make my way out of there with nary a judgmental glance from the sales clerk. I tossed the bag in the front passenger seat next to me, and sped home. My phone was ringing as I put the key in the door, but I ignored it and let the answering machine pick up. My instinct was to grab it, because I hadn’t heard from Ethan in three days, but I needed to stay focused on clearing my mind and getting back to my studies. The caller did not leave a message.

Once the bag was in my hands, I seized the box, dropped the receipt on the floor and began to read the instructions. Since I hadn’t paid any attention to what brand I snatched off the shelf, I needed to know exactly what type of signal would inform me that I wasn’t pregnant. It was a First Response test, and after unfolding the origami-like instruction booklet, I learned that my ultimate goal was to see one pink line upon completion. One pink line, one pink line, one pink line…

First: Remove the stick from the foil wrapper and remove the Overcap.

Easy enough.

Second: Hold the test stick by the Thumb-Grip with the Result Window facing away from you.

Done.

Third: Place the Absorbent Tip in your urine stream for exactly 5 seconds.

Damn.

I sat the test stick down on the edge of my pedestal sink and went to grab a Diet Coke and a No Doz. I drank half the can as fast as I could without inflicting brain freeze, and then waited. I wasn’t sure which waiting episode would be more stressful, waiting to pee or waiting for the results. My phone rang again, and again, but I continued to let the machine answer it. The third time it was Jenna, but I couldn’t take her call either. Instead, I threw a scrunchie in my hair, took the small white stick in my hand, and sat on the toilet with my sweat pants balled up around my ankles. The box said five seconds exactly, so I began to count as soon as I felt my bladder relax and release.

One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, four-one thousand, five-one thousand.

Fourth: Replace the Overcap, and lay the stick on a flat surface with the Result Window facing up.

Mission complete.

Fifth: Wait three minutes before reading results.

Wait on the toilet? Wait in the kitchen? Where was step six explaining how to maintain composure and process said results?

Five seconds passed.

I stood, pulled my sweat pants up, rolled the top to keep them from slipping, and checked the stick. Nothing.

Common sense whispered to me, “Move away from the stick.”

Fifteen seconds passed.

A flash of warm nausea came and went, so I walked to the kitchen for some cold water. Two ice cubes that were fused together slipped out of my hands onto the floor, and I just stood and watched them begin their transformation into a small puddle. I had only one concern.

One minute down.

I walked back to the bathroom and sat on the floor opposite the sink with my toes pushed up against the white porcelain base. The air felt heavy and absent of oxygen. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly through my nose.

Two minutes passed.

By that point I’d convinced myself that looking at the stick prematurely would no doubt be misleading and uninformative. I pictured it like a slot machine, with various pink lines spinning around the tiny results window.

Two and a half minutes passed.

My lungs were contracting so I walked back to the kitchen, but sadly the air in there wasn’t any better, and my socks were wet. I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Three minutes had passed.

I don’t recall ever walking back into the bathroom…only sitting on the toilet staring at the stick on the edge of my sink. My shoulders slumped and heavy, keeping me from lifting my neck and properly viewing the window. I leaned forward, grabbed the stick tentatively like a shard of glass, and just as I brought it toward me, two bright pink lines appeared in the results window.

“Holy shit,” I said aloud.

I held the little test stick, which now seemed so technologically un-advanced, that I could hardly believe something so disposable was capable of delivering such life-altering information. But there they were, two gleaming, fuchsia lines, and neither one were remotely pale in color or incomplete. I placed it back on the sink and buried my head in my hands, because as if seeing those neon stripes staring back at me wasn’t bad enough, next came the realization of who the father was.

The slowest three minutes of my life were then followed by the passing of two hours in the blink of an eye. I sat on the floor, catatonic in front of my books until after midnight when I took my phone off the hook and went to bed.

Two Tylenol PM’s and a Bud Light were all it took to get me to sleep.

 

One Pink Line is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99

 

Connect with Dina Silver:

Author Website: www.dinasilver.com

Author Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/One-Pink-Line/235260919862358

Author Twitter Page: https://twitter.com/#!/DinaSilver

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: The Candidate’s Follies: A Novel, R.D. Poll {$0.99}

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R.D. Poll‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of The Candidate’s Follies: A Novel:

Dexter Sempel is a good-looking personable politician. He is about to win his party’s nomination for president. He’s indifferent to his wife and children, and trying to figure out the best way to get his mistress out of the picture before she ruins his chance of becoming president. Dexter believes he has everything under control, but someone is aware of his dark secrets. And someone is determined to stop him.

The Candidate’s Follies is a fast-paced, page turning thrill about ambition, lust and the quest for power.

 

Accolades:

“This short story was funny and enjoyable to read. I was trying to decide if the main character was based on Rick Santorum or Mitt Romney. It was a funny take on campaigns at its worst. I was hoping Dexter Sempel would get his just due and he did! The book was quick and easy to read and I was able read it in one sitting which is nice.”


Reviews:

The Candidate’s Follies: A Novel currently has a customer review rating of 4 stars from 1 review. Read the reviews here.

 

The Candidate’s Follies: A Novel is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99

 

An excerpt from The Candidate’s Follies: A Novel:

Chapter 1

He loosened his tie and sighed as he sat down on the bed in yet another nondescript hotel room. This room had pale yellow walls and orange accents. He imagined it was the decorator’s idea of cheerful. It gave him a headache but at least the room was clean, and he could finally sit down by himself and relax. Three hours of shaking hands, making small talk and smiling endlessly for the cameras was draining. But Dexter Sempel wasn’t a quitter and the ultimate prize: the Presidency of the United States of America was worth all of the bullshit that he had to put up with.
Dexter looked like the perfect presidential candidate. Dark hair, with a few threads of silver here and there. Piercing blue eyes. Six feet tall, with a trim athletic build. Dexter Sempel looked like the prosperous s-o-b that he was. He also had the perfect resume for a candidate. He was born and raised in the medium-sized town of Greenbury Hills, South Carolina. He was the son of a banker father and part-time accountant mother. Dexter was the middle child. His older sister, Mary, never had any desire to leave Greenbury Hills. She married her high school sweetheart right after college and promptly had two kids, a dog and a cat. She was content with her simple life. His younger brother, Daniel, was also happy with life in Greenbury Hills. He went to work at the same bank as their father and settled into a mundane routine that suited him.

Dexter had a great desire to venture out into the world. He was accepted into Brown University where he majored in political science. After graduation, he joined the military and served his country in the Persian Gulf during Desert Storm. After the U.S. pulled out of that conflict Dexter enrolled in Harvard Law where he did not stand out. But that didn’t matter. He graduated and his resume looked damned good on paper and that was all that he needed. Dexter had decided before he enrolled in the military that he would be president one day. Upon graduation, Dexter returned to South Carolina and became a prosecutor. He prosecuted a couple of high profile cases that received extensive media coverage. This brought him to the attention of political movers and shakers. They quickly realized that Dexter was their man. He was a southern conservative with mass appeal and good looks. He was the one to bring southern dominance back to the political landscape. They encouraged him to find a wife who was pretty and would be an asset in the future. He easily won his first congressional seat and after serving three terms, his political backers catapulted him to the governor’s mansion. They propelled Dexter along a path that he wanted and would help them. What they didn’t know and what Dexter hid from everyone was the fact that he was a sociopath with a dark side who couldn’t control his impulses. It helped that Dexter was a good public speaker and good with people. No one watching him would have guessed that he hated shaking the fat, sweaty hands of his constituents. That he hated picking up babies and posing with them and that he hated all of the dumb chitchat that he had to make.

Dexter had the rare gift of making everyone feel like they had his undivided attention. The truth was he couldn’t care less, but he definitely couldn’t show it now that he was playing on the national stage now.

 

R.D. Poll is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Where Did We Go Wrong?, Monica Mathis-Stowe {$3.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

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Monica Mathis-Stowes Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Where Did We Go Wrong?:

Where Did We Go Wrong? is set to be one of the year’s best urban fiction e-books on Kindle. If you love black romance novels or urban fiction in
general, then this one should be on your must read list!

In this newly released romantic suspense novel, best friends Gabby, Maxine and Joy protect each other at all costs, even if it means keeping secrets that
turn their lives upside down. Gabby has no boundaries when it comes to getting what she wants. She pulls out every trick in the book to keep her daughter’s
married father out of their lives but keep his money in her bank account, while Maxine lives for her family but when her husband’s excessive spending lands
them in more debt than they can handle, the stress takes a toll on their perfect marriage. After Joy’s loyalty to her controlling mother causes her to
lose the only man she’s ever loved, she marries a man she barely knows. When the wedding is over, she quickly realizes she made the biggest mistake of her
life and it puts everybody she loves in danger. Unfortunately, someone will have to pay the ultimate price with their life.

 

Accolades:

Where Did We Go Wrong? is an honest portrait of modern relationships. It is part soap-opera, part daytime talk show and part late-night Cinemax movie. Brisk pacing, memorable players and snappy dialogue that will pique readers’ interest as the characters struggle to balance their need for love and fulfillment with a desire to live an independent life. An enjoyable, lightweight read for anyone craving a mix of chick-lit drama and spicy romance. ~Kirkus Reviews

I’ve been an editor for more than 40 years and about 15 years of them were as a free-lancer. This story is excellent, one of the Top 2 I’ve encountered…great plotting, clearly drawn, sympathetic (or hateful) characters, crisp, realistic dialogue. I’m really impressed. I loved every minute of it. ~Noël Higgins, Editor, Durham, Connecticut

Where Did We Go Wrong? keeps readers in suspense until the very last page and leaves you wanting more. ~Tiphani Montgomery, Essence Bestselling Author of the Millionaire Mistress Series

A steamy, sexy and fun read with lots of page turning drama. ~K. Lowery Moore, Author of When I’m Loving You

This book is amazing! I found it hard to put my laptop down to stop reading it! Surprise after surprise! I’m pretty sure I went through every human emotion while reading it! ~Shatorra Alexander, African-American Fiction Book Lover

 

Review Ratings:

Where Did We Go Wrong? currently has a review rating of 5 stars from 80 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

Where Did We Go Wrong? is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $3.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

An excerpt from Where Did We Go Wrong?:

An hour later, Gabby was resting comfortably in her private maternity suite. She pushed the button on the remote to raise her bed and adjusted her pillow behind her back. “I can’t believe I’m a mother!”

“I can’t believe you get a room like this after giving birth. I had to share a room when I delivered both my boys and it didn’t look anything like this,” Maxine said. She walked around the room touching the draperies, flat-screen television, and fully stocked refrigerator to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

Joy was sitting in a chair near the door. She stared at Gabby with a straight face and asked, “Did you call him? Because I’m not calling him for you anymore.”

Gabby avoided Joy’s gaze. She took a mirror, comb, and tube of lip gloss out of her purse and began combing through her shoulder-length, chestnut-brown hair. “We worked everything out through our lawyers. He doesn’t want to be her father because of his wife and children. I respect that as long as he takes care of my little girl financially,” Gabby replied.

“What is William’s role in all of this?” Maxine asked.

William had been Gabby’s boyfriend until she broke up with him to start dating Rayshawn Robinson, a quarterback for the Baltimore Ravens. He was better known as R&R in the NFL and to his fans. Gabby knew she hit the jackpot after R&R signed a $75 million-dollar contract with the Ravens. She had one obstacle standing between her and Rayshawn’s millions: his family. She stopped using birth control the day R&R signed his new contract. Gabby knew that the best way to get part of his millions was to have his child. She seduced Rayshawn night and day. He didn’t complain when she told him to stop using condoms because they felt uncomfortable. He enjoyed spending time with her because she was beautiful and she often left him in tears after they had sex. He enjoyed every bit of what she gave him, so now he needed to pay up.

Gabby looked at Joy and Maxine with a serious expression. “William will be her father. He believes she’s his child and that’s how we’re going to keep it.” Gabby placed the mirror, comb, and lip gloss on the tray attached to her bed. She then shook her head in their direction, waiting for them to agree with her.

“This lie is going to come back and bite you in the ass,” Joy snapped and frowned.

“This is not a good idea, Gabby. This one lie can hurt so many people,” Maxine reasoned.

The nurse entered the room with Gabby’s newborn baby girl in a white bassinet. She was tightly wrapped in a pink blanket with a pink cap over her head. After the nurse placed the baby in Gabby’s arms and left, Maxine and Joy stood on each side of the bed to get a closer look at their new goddaughter.
“She’s beautiful, Gabby,” Maxine whispered with tears in her eyes.

“Of course she is, Maxine. I wouldn’t make an ugly child,” Gabby declared. “Thank God she takes after my side and not Rayshawn’s. I wonder why I even slept with him.” Gabby let out a deep sigh and shook her head.

“Let’s keep it real, Gabby. You slept with him for the money.” Joy looked across the bed at Maxine who was shaking her head and smiling in agreement.

Dr. Fields entered the room. Gabby quickly passed the baby to Maxine and sat straight up in the bed, giving the doctor her full attention. Maxine stood beside the bed gently rocking the baby in her arms. Joy stepped away from the bed and walked over to the large picture window so the doctor could have access to Gabby.

Joy stared out the window overlooking the parking lot. A couple holding hands was walking across the lot kissing each other every few steps. It made her heart ache for Allen. She wasn’t looking forward to calling him and cancelling their plans for the long Memorial Day weekend. She knew he wasn’t going to be happy.
“Dr. Fields, are you listening to me?” Gabby shrilled as her light complexion turned an angry shade of red.

Dr. Fields was staring at Joy’s butt in a pair of tight Guess jeans. Her jet-black curly hair, inherited from her Puerto Rican father, fell down her back, stopping at her narrow waist. He was mesmerized by her caramel complexion and womanly curves. Joy turned around and caught him staring at her. She gave him a polite smile before she stepped out of the room to call Allen.

Dr. Fields kept his eyes glued to Joy’s butt until she was gone. “Sorry, Gabrielle… umm, is your friend single?” he asked.

Gabby rolled her eyes at the doctor and reached for the baby. “No! She’s been with her boyfriend since they were teenagers.” She whined like a spoiled child who couldn’t have her way.

Maxine turned her head and giggled. When the doctor left the room, he saw Joy and smiled at her again. She was having an intense phone conversation so she turned her back to him.

“Allen, baby, I know you’re upset. But I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Joy pleaded.

“I was looking forward to a four-day weekend with you. Now we have to change our plans because Gabby had a fucking baby. Bullshit!” He hung up.
Joy swallowed hard and wiped the tears that were forming in her eyes. She hated disappointing Allen. She loved him too much to hurt him. She took a deep breath and exhaled before she walked back to Gabby’s maternity suite.

“Joy, Dr. Fields couldn’t keep his eyes off your behind,” Maxine said, laughing.

“Most men can’t,” Gabby barked and rolled her eyes. She thought Dr. Fields was going to ask her out after she delivered.

Joy ignored both of them. She sat back in the chair near the front door and massaged her temples with her fingertips. Maxine and Gabby looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Gabby, you haven’t told us our goddaughter’s name. Have you decided yet?” Maxine asked.

Gabby looked at her daughter and said, “Yes, I have. Her name is Nadia Rae Roché.”

Joy stopped massaging her temples and looked at Gabby with such hatred; it made Gabby’s eyes bulge. Joy jumped out of her chair with so much force, it fell back and slammed into the wall before it crashed to the floor with a loud thump.

The baby let out a soft cry as if she knew something was wrong.

Maxine gasped and shook her head. “No, Gabby! Ever since we’ve known each other, Joy has always said she wanted to name her daughter Nadia. What you’re doing is unacceptable! Her middle name is Rae after her real father! Unbelievable! What’s William going to say about that?”

Joy walked toward the bed with her index finger pointed at Gabby. “This is crossing the line even for you.”

Gabby ignored her and focused her attention on Maxine. “Everybody can’t have a perfect life like you, Maxine. I would love to have a husband who’s a lawyer and wants me to stay home to care for our two children, but it didn’t happen that way for me. I refuse to be poor and struggling all my life. I’m going to make a good life for us.” She looked at Nadia and smiled.

“Are you serious, Gabby? Do you really think my life is perfect? My husband leaves at seven o’clock every morning and doesn’t get home until after eight o’clock most nights. I’m stuck in the house all day with two young children watching the Disney channel while all my friends are enjoying their lives and careers.” Maxine, with her mocha complexion, short pixie hair-cut, and petite frame, looked more like a high school cheerleader than a married woman with two young sons. She waved her arms in the air and smacked her lips. “While I’m eagerly waiting for my husband to come home for some adult conversation, he’s too tired to talk to me. I lose a little bit of myself every day. The only difference between us, Gabby, is I don’t drag anybody else into my drama. I deal with it myself.” Maxine stopped herself from saying anything else. She didn’t want to burden her friends with what was really happening in her household .

“If it’s that bad, go get a job. You have a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in education. I’m sure Prince George’s County Schools will hire you back.”

William walked in the room with a grin as wide as the door frame. “Hey, hey! How are my girls?”

Joy finally took her cold stare off Gabby and looked at William. “Hi, William, I was just leaving.”

“Joy, don’t leave because of me.” William hugged Joy and then Maxine. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me on becoming a father? Gabby wouldn’t let me in the delivery room, but I’m here now and ready to meet my daughter.”

Joy felt her temperature rise as she looked at the contented smirk on Gabby’s face. “William, I think there is something you need to know about the baby.”

Gabby cleared her throat and said, “Thanks, Joy, but we’re not listening to any unsolicited advice on how to care for our daughter. We’ll figure it out.” Gabby reached her hand out for William. He ignored Joy and ran to Gabby’s side.

Maxine held her breath as her eyeballs went back and forth between Joy and Gabby as if she were watching an intense tennis match.

William held Gabby’s hand and said, “We’re new parents, Gabby, so we need to listen to people who’ve already been through this. Maxine has two children; maybe she knows something that can help us out.”

Joy and Gabby stared at each other uncomfortably for a few seconds. William didn’t notice because he was staring at Nadia.

Joy gave in with a sigh, “Let me go so the happy family can spend some time together.”

Gabby looked at Joy with a strained smile and said, “thank you for everything, Joy.”

Joy snatched her Gucci handbag off the windowsill and left the room without saying another word. How was she going to pass up her plans to spend a long weekend with her man in Atlanta to play nurse maid to Gabby’s selfish ass? She called Allen, but got his voice mail. “Hi, baby, change of plans, I’m on my way. I’ll text you my flight details.” Joy stepped onto the elevator, smiling ear to ear, knowing that in a few hours she was going to be in Allen’s bed having the best make-up sex they’d ever experienced.

 

Where Did We Go Wrong? is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $3.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!


Connect with Monica Mathis-Stowe:

Twitter: @MMathisStowe

Website:  www.MonicaMathisStowe.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MonicaMathisStowe

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!, A. J. Harris {$2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

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A. J. Harris’ Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!:

When Billionaire Real Estate Developer Peter Bruxton is found murdered – shot in the head in his hotel room – it comes as no surprise to anyone who knew him. In fact, the biggest challenge facing the detectives charged with solving Bruxton’s murder may be finding someone who is NOT a suspect.

Also not a surprise is the fact that Bruxton was shot while presumably having sex. His sexual escapades (with everyone except his wife) were the subject of open conversation at cocktail parties throughout the Coachella Valley social scene (as was his general tendency to offend anyone he met within five minutes of meeting them). Bruxton was universally disliked, but he was particularly despised by several of the women he had bedded (as well as by their husbands).

Was Bruxton’s murder a crime of passion or a premeditated act of revenge? It’s a case that crosses state lines, exposes the excesses of the very rich, and brings wartime secrets to light. Join detectives Mannheim and Oliver as they seek to solve the case of the philandering fat cat in Death in the Saddle (Not a Western).

 

Accolade:

A raucus good time! Kept me guessing until the very end. Another remarkable work by A. J. Harris, M.D. — Mark E. Anderson


Death in the Saddle, Not a Western! is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!

 

An excerpt from Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!:

“You know, Josh, I swear I’m going to kill that sonofabitch one day. I can’t stand having him around. The very sight of him nauseates me.” Mary Bruxton said abruptly as she adjusted her skirt after the examination in Dr. Josh Harrington’s office.

Dr. Josh sat, taking notes, then looked up. “Mary, you’re upset and your aching back isn’t helping your disposition. I’ll order physical therapy, and give you a few samples of muscle relaxants, as well as some mild pain medication.  Hang on.”

Dr. Josh got up, walked over to the cabinet, pulled open a drawer, and took out some sample packets. “Yes, these should work,” he said, handing the packets to his patient. “And take this too.” He added, handing her a note. “These are the dosages and instructions.”

Her edginess subsided as she placed the samples and the note in her purse. She smiled. “Josh, you’re sweet as ever to give me these freebies. But you know I can well afford to buy my own medication. It’s not like it was twenty five years ago when we were all neighbors, without a pot between us.”

Mary Bruxton, prominent socialite, the doyenne of charitable institutions in the Coachella Valley and wife of the lumber baron, Peter Bruxton, was recalling a time of profound penury. “Do you remember how the four of us—you and Sally, God rest her soul, Peter and I struggled so damned hard to eke out a living? And how we dreaded the bills that came due on the first of the month? Looking back, I think, what a wonderful time that was. We were in love, we struggled, we had great hopes for the future, we had our babies….” She stood up then, leaving the sentence unfinished as she drifted off with her memories.

Standing erect increased Mary’s low back pain, and she gripped the edge of the examining table, then took two labored steps toward Josh and embraced him. “You’re just as kind and considerate now as you were as a young doctor trying to make enough to keep your little family together.” She released her grip and leaned against the table, shaking her head before continuing. “And look what’s happened to Peter and me. Can you believe he’s become the largest private owner of forested land in the country? Rich as Croesus, but it’s changed his personality. He went from being a considerate loving husband and father to one rotten, depraved money-grubbing sonofabitch.”

She put her hand up. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t try to defend him. You can’t possibly know what it’s like living with him. It’s as though he made a pact with the devil and traded his soul and sanity for all that money. He treats me like dirt, or worse. He’s become a womanizer; no one in a skirt is safe around him, that filthy lecher. I won’t let him touch me. God only knows what he’s been exposed to. I suppose my hands-off treatment has made him even more resentful, but hell, he brought it on himself. I’m sorry, but I just can’t deal with that, anymore.”

Josh listened, dismayed to hear Mary castigate his old friend. But he knew that what she said was most probably true. Although reluctant, he asked, “Has he been abusive?”

“Has he been abusive, you ask? Hah! Oh, yeah, big-time, physically and verbally. We got into it pretty good several weeks ago. He went absolutely berserk—started swearing and calling me his usual vile names. Smashed some of my precious antiques. He said I loved them more than I loved him. And you know what? The bastard was absolutely right.  When I tried to stop him he grabbed me and twisted my arm till I thought it would break. Then he slapped me across the face. I broke away, called the police and ordered him to get the hell out. He knows I can get a restraining order, so he packed a bag and got a suite at the Springs Hotel. I’ll allow him to come home when our daughter, Deena, comes in for a visit from U.S.C. In the meantime, he’s on his own.  And I can tell you this: if he ever lays a hand on me again, I’ll kill that sonofabitch.  I will. I swear it. I’m still pretty good with a pistol…got a few trophies to show for it.”

“Now, now Mary. When your backache eases you may feel a bit more charitable. Who knows, Peter may even put all his philandering behind him one day, and come back home to his true love.”

“Yeah, and I’m the virgin queen.”

Josh knew immediately how empty his words sounded, but he didn’t want Mary to leave without a word of hope or encouragement. “Does Deena know that you two have been at odds?”

“Of course. She enjoys a special relationship with her father, and I know she would like to see our feuding come to end.” Mary breathed deeply and sighed. “Truthfully, Josh, the prospect of a divorce, with the problems of property division and the inevitable court battles are more than I dare think about. I’ll try my best to tolerate the jackass—that is, at least until Deena finishes school or gets married.”

Josh bent over and kissed Mary on her cheek. “Try to rest and take the medication. I’ll notify PT to make arrangements to go to your home. Call me in a couple days and give me a progress report.”

Mary gave Josh a melancholy smile and held both his hands. “Why couldn’t I have married a sweet guy like you?” She took a small mirror from her purse to apply lipstick. She smacked her lips then ran her tongue around her lips before putting the mirror away. “When this back gets better I’m going to find me a virile dude for companionship.” She looked at Josh and arched an eyebrow. “Say, do you still make house calls?”


Death in the Saddle, Not a Western! is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!


Connect with A. J. Harris:

Website: http://www.murdermysterypress.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/DeathInTheSaddle

KINDLE DAILY DEAL: Those Who Save Us by Jenna Blum is $1.99 Today Only!

For fifty years, Anna Schlemmer has refused to talk about her life in Germany during World War II. Her daughter, Trudy, was only three when she and her mother were liberated by an American soldier and went to live with him in Minnesota. Trudy’s sole evidence of the past is an old photograph: a family portrait showing Anna, Trudy, and a Nazi officer, the Obersturmfuhrer of Buchenwald.

Driven by the guilt of her heritage, Trudy, now a professor of German history, begins investigating the past and finally unearths the dramatic and heartbreaking truth of her mother’s life.

Combining a passionate, doomed love story, a vivid evocation of life during the war, and a poignant mother/daughter drama, Those Who Save Us is a profound exploration of what we endure to survive and the legacy of shame.

What readers are saying:

I recommend this book to anyone who read and enjoyed SARAH’S KEY, Jenna Blum is a masterful writer and look forward to more books from her.

I felt the only weakness in the book was the character of Mr. Pfeiffer toward the very end of the book.

The setting of the story alternates effectively between Anna’s and Trudy’s experiences during the Holocaust in Weimar, Germany and their subsequent life in Minnesota.

The average Amazon Reader Review is currently 4.5 stars {298 reviews}.

Click here to read more about and purchase Those Who Save Us for $1.99* from Amazon

*Price goes back up to $8.52 tomorrow!

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!, A. J. Harris {$2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

Sponsored Post

A. J. Harris’ Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!:

When Billionaire Real Estate Developer Peter Bruxton is found murdered – shot in the head in his hotel room – it comes as no surprise to anyone who knew him. In fact, the biggest challenge facing the detectives charged with solving Bruxton’s murder may be finding someone who is NOT a suspect.

Also not a surprise is the fact that Bruxton was shot while presumably having sex. His sexual escapades (with everyone except his wife) were the subject of open conversation at cocktail parties throughout the Coachella Valley social scene (as was his general tendency to offend anyone he met within five minutes of meeting them). Bruxton was universally disliked, but he was particularly despised by several of the women he had bedded (as well as by their husbands).

Was Bruxton’s murder a crime of passion or a premeditated act of revenge? It’s a case that crosses state lines, exposes the excesses of the very rich, and brings wartime secrets to light. Join detectives Mannheim and Oliver as they seek to solve the case of the philandering fat cat in Death in the Saddle (Not a Western).

 

Accolade:

A raucus good time! Kept me guessing until the very end. Another remarkable work by A. J. Harris, M.D. — Mark E. Anderson


Death in the Saddle, Not a Western! is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!

 

An excerpt from Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!:

“You know, Josh, I swear I’m going to kill that sonofabitch one day. I can’t stand having him around. The very sight of him nauseates me.” Mary Bruxton said abruptly as she adjusted her skirt after the examination in Dr. Josh Harrington’s office.

Dr. Josh sat, taking notes, then looked up. “Mary, you’re upset and your aching back isn’t helping your disposition. I’ll order physical therapy, and give you a few samples of muscle relaxants, as well as some mild pain medication.  Hang on.”

Dr. Josh got up, walked over to the cabinet, pulled open a drawer, and took out some sample packets. “Yes, these should work,” he said, handing the packets to his patient. “And take this too.” He added, handing her a note. “These are the dosages and instructions.”

Her edginess subsided as she placed the samples and the note in her purse. She smiled. “Josh, you’re sweet as ever to give me these freebies. But you know I can well afford to buy my own medication. It’s not like it was twenty five years ago when we were all neighbors, without a pot between us.”

Mary Bruxton, prominent socialite, the doyenne of charitable institutions in the Coachella Valley and wife of the lumber baron, Peter Bruxton, was recalling a time of profound penury. “Do you remember how the four of us—you and Sally, God rest her soul, Peter and I struggled so damned hard to eke out a living? And how we dreaded the bills that came due on the first of the month? Looking back, I think, what a wonderful time that was. We were in love, we struggled, we had great hopes for the future, we had our babies….” She stood up then, leaving the sentence unfinished as she drifted off with her memories.

Standing erect increased Mary’s low back pain, and she gripped the edge of the examining table, then took two labored steps toward Josh and embraced him. “You’re just as kind and considerate now as you were as a young doctor trying to make enough to keep your little family together.” She released her grip and leaned against the table, shaking her head before continuing. “And look what’s happened to Peter and me. Can you believe he’s become the largest private owner of forested land in the country? Rich as Croesus, but it’s changed his personality. He went from being a considerate loving husband and father to one rotten, depraved money-grubbing sonofabitch.”

She put her hand up. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t try to defend him. You can’t possibly know what it’s like living with him. It’s as though he made a pact with the devil and traded his soul and sanity for all that money. He treats me like dirt, or worse. He’s become a womanizer; no one in a skirt is safe around him, that filthy lecher. I won’t let him touch me. God only knows what he’s been exposed to. I suppose my hands-off treatment has made him even more resentful, but hell, he brought it on himself. I’m sorry, but I just can’t deal with that, anymore.”

Josh listened, dismayed to hear Mary castigate his old friend. But he knew that what she said was most probably true. Although reluctant, he asked, “Has he been abusive?”

“Has he been abusive, you ask? Hah! Oh, yeah, big-time, physically and verbally. We got into it pretty good several weeks ago. He went absolutely berserk—started swearing and calling me his usual vile names. Smashed some of my precious antiques. He said I loved them more than I loved him. And you know what? The bastard was absolutely right.  When I tried to stop him he grabbed me and twisted my arm till I thought it would break. Then he slapped me across the face. I broke away, called the police and ordered him to get the hell out. He knows I can get a restraining order, so he packed a bag and got a suite at the Springs Hotel. I’ll allow him to come home when our daughter, Deena, comes in for a visit from U.S.C. In the meantime, he’s on his own.  And I can tell you this: if he ever lays a hand on me again, I’ll kill that sonofabitch.  I will. I swear it. I’m still pretty good with a pistol…got a few trophies to show for it.”

“Now, now Mary. When your backache eases you may feel a bit more charitable. Who knows, Peter may even put all his philandering behind him one day, and come back home to his true love.”

“Yeah, and I’m the virgin queen.”

Josh knew immediately how empty his words sounded, but he didn’t want Mary to leave without a word of hope or encouragement. “Does Deena know that you two have been at odds?”

“Of course. She enjoys a special relationship with her father, and I know she would like to see our feuding come to end.” Mary breathed deeply and sighed. “Truthfully, Josh, the prospect of a divorce, with the problems of property division and the inevitable court battles are more than I dare think about. I’ll try my best to tolerate the jackass—that is, at least until Deena finishes school or gets married.”

Josh bent over and kissed Mary on her cheek. “Try to rest and take the medication. I’ll notify PT to make arrangements to go to your home. Call me in a couple days and give me a progress report.”

Mary gave Josh a melancholy smile and held both his hands. “Why couldn’t I have married a sweet guy like you?” She took a small mirror from her purse to apply lipstick. She smacked her lips then ran her tongue around her lips before putting the mirror away. “When this back gets better I’m going to find me a virile dude for companionship.” She looked at Josh and arched an eyebrow. “Say, do you still make house calls?”


Death in the Saddle, Not a Western! is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!


Connect with A. J. Harris:

Website: http://www.murdermysterypress.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/DeathInTheSaddle

KINDLE DAILY DEAL: The Perfect Assassin by Ward Larsen is Just $0.99 Today Only!

One perfect shot will change the course of history. Christine Palmer, a young American doctor sailing solo across the Atlantic, makes an incredible discovery – a man narrowly clinging to his life in the frigid waters. But there is much more to this desperate survivor than meets the eye.David Slaton is a Kidon – a highly-trained, highly-precise, and highly-dangerous assassin. The Kidon is both the hunter and the hunted, and he and Christine are in grave danger. Will they win in this race against time?With the precision of a sharpshooter, author Ward Larsen weaves an intricate tale of espionage and intrigue.

What readers are saying:

First there was the Jackal, then Jason Bourne. Now meet David Slaton, the Kidon – a highly-trained Israeli assassin who is both hunter and hunted.

A gripping first novel. High octane action. Immerses you in the world and mind of the assassin. Nothing is what it seems.

A stunning blend of intrigue and espionage. A thriller of the highest order. Larsen’s cast of characters keeps you riveted to the very end.

“.plenty of action.technical detail that would do Tom Clancy proud” -Publishers Weekly

The average Amazon Reader Review is currently 4.5 stars {52 reviews}.

Click here to read more about and purchase The Perfect Assassin for $0.99* from Amazon

*Price goes back up to $8.92 tomorrow!

 

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Relatively Dead (Carol Golden), Alan Cook {$0.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!}

Sponsored Post

Alan Cook’s Frugal Find Under Nine:


Description of Relatively Dead (Carol Golden):

The follow up to Forget to Remember!

Carol Golden has recovered her identity if not her memory (lost in Forget to Remember) and she would like to find more relatives. She discovers cousins with the last name of Boyd and finds they are apparently being targeted for murder. In addition, her grandmother is developing Alzheimer’s Disease and has been a victim of the “Grandparent Scam,” losing a lot of money to someone in Los Angeles who is impersonating Carol’s dead brother.

Carol travels to Los Angeles from her home in North Carolina to attend a memorial service for one murdered cousin and to try and determine whether the scammer and the murderer are the same person. However, she finds out soon after her arrival in L.A. that somone doesn’t want her sticking her nose into any of this.

A group calling itself The Syndicate is promoting what looks suspiciously like a Ponzi scheme, and at least one of her cousins could be involved, bilking people out of their money. Is there a connection to the murderer here? Will Carol become disillusioned about her relatives? Maybe she would have been better off not finding them.

 

Accolade:

Amazon Reader Review:

Relatively Dead was a great story. It was hard to put down because I just wanted to know what happened next. The main Character was very clever and the story line was exciting. Loved the reference to who might have written the poem in chapter 29 (nice plug). The end left me wanting more stories with this character.


Reviews:

Relatively Dead (Carol Golden) currently has a customer review rating of 5 stars from 3 reviews. Read the reviews here.


An excerpt from Relatively Dead (Carol Golden):

Nobody knows the value of family like the person who doesn’t have one.

I’m speaking from experience. I didn’t have any relatives for many weeks last year. That’s when I had amnesia. My name is Carol Golden. Well, it’s not my real name. It’s what I called myself when I didn’t know what my real name was. Now I like it better than my real name.

When I recovered my identity (but not my memory) I found one of my relatives—my grandmother, Elizabeth Horton. My parents and my brother, Michael, were dead. Recently, I’d learned about another line of relatives who were cousins of Grandma, which meant they were my cousins, also. I talked to one of them—Jason Boyd—on the phone, and promised to visit him in California at some nebulous future date.

Now, a few days later, I was standing in front of the counter at Raleigh-Durham Airport, checking a single suitcase and preparing to go through security and face scrutiny and possible humiliation at the hands (literally) of the TSA staff. I was on my way to California to visit Jason Boyd.

However, it wasn’t a happy occasion. The day before I’d learned his grandson—also named Jason—had been murdered. I’d found relatives and already lost one of them. Grandma told me I’d never met either Jason. It didn’t matter. Call it a compulsion to collect relatives born from my amnesia, but I couldn’t not go.

 

Relatively Dead (Carol Golden) is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!

 

Connect with Alan Cook:

Website: http://alancook.50megs.com

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!, A. J. Harris {$2.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!}

Sponsored Post

A. J. Harris’ Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!:

When Billionaire Real Estate Developer Peter Bruxton is found murdered – shot in the head in his hotel room – it comes as no surprise to anyone who knew him. In fact, the biggest challenge facing the detectives charged with solving Bruxton’s murder may be finding someone who is NOT a suspect.

Also not a surprise is the fact that Bruxton was shot while presumably having sex. His sexual escapades (with everyone except his wife) were the subject of open conversation at cocktail parties throughout the Coachella Valley social scene (as was his general tendency to offend anyone he met within five minutes of meeting them). Bruxton was universally disliked, but he was particularly despised by several of the women he had bedded (as well as by their husbands).

Was Bruxton’s murder a crime of passion or a premeditated act of revenge? It’s a case that crosses state lines, exposes the excesses of the very rich, and brings wartime secrets to light. Join detectives Mannheim and Oliver as they seek to solve the case of the philandering fat cat in Death in the Saddle (Not a Western).

 

Accolade:

A raucus good time! Kept me guessing until the very end. Another remarkable work by A. J. Harris, M.D. — Mark E. Anderson


Death in the Saddle, Not a Western! is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!

 

An excerpt from Death in the Saddle, Not a Western!:

“You know, Josh, I swear I’m going to kill that sonofabitch one day. I can’t stand having him around. The very sight of him nauseates me.” Mary Bruxton said abruptly as she adjusted her skirt after the examination in Dr. Josh Harrington’s office.

Dr. Josh sat, taking notes, then looked up. “Mary, you’re upset and your aching back isn’t helping your disposition. I’ll order physical therapy, and give you a few samples of muscle relaxants, as well as some mild pain medication.  Hang on.”

Dr. Josh got up, walked over to the cabinet, pulled open a drawer, and took out some sample packets. “Yes, these should work,” he said, handing the packets to his patient. “And take this too.” He added, handing her a note. “These are the dosages and instructions.”

Her edginess subsided as she placed the samples and the note in her purse. She smiled. “Josh, you’re sweet as ever to give me these freebies. But you know I can well afford to buy my own medication. It’s not like it was twenty five years ago when we were all neighbors, without a pot between us.”

Mary Bruxton, prominent socialite, the doyenne of charitable institutions in the Coachella Valley and wife of the lumber baron, Peter Bruxton, was recalling a time of profound penury. “Do you remember how the four of us—you and Sally, God rest her soul, Peter and I struggled so damned hard to eke out a living? And how we dreaded the bills that came due on the first of the month? Looking back, I think, what a wonderful time that was. We were in love, we struggled, we had great hopes for the future, we had our babies….” She stood up then, leaving the sentence unfinished as she drifted off with her memories.

Standing erect increased Mary’s low back pain, and she gripped the edge of the examining table, then took two labored steps toward Josh and embraced him. “You’re just as kind and considerate now as you were as a young doctor trying to make enough to keep your little family together.” She released her grip and leaned against the table, shaking her head before continuing. “And look what’s happened to Peter and me. Can you believe he’s become the largest private owner of forested land in the country? Rich as Croesus, but it’s changed his personality. He went from being a considerate loving husband and father to one rotten, depraved money-grubbing sonofabitch.”

She put her hand up. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t try to defend him. You can’t possibly know what it’s like living with him. It’s as though he made a pact with the devil and traded his soul and sanity for all that money. He treats me like dirt, or worse. He’s become a womanizer; no one in a skirt is safe around him, that filthy lecher. I won’t let him touch me. God only knows what he’s been exposed to. I suppose my hands-off treatment has made him even more resentful, but hell, he brought it on himself. I’m sorry, but I just can’t deal with that, anymore.”

Josh listened, dismayed to hear Mary castigate his old friend. But he knew that what she said was most probably true. Although reluctant, he asked, “Has he been abusive?”

“Has he been abusive, you ask? Hah! Oh, yeah, big-time, physically and verbally. We got into it pretty good several weeks ago. He went absolutely berserk—started swearing and calling me his usual vile names. Smashed some of my precious antiques. He said I loved them more than I loved him. And you know what? The bastard was absolutely right.  When I tried to stop him he grabbed me and twisted my arm till I thought it would break. Then he slapped me across the face. I broke away, called the police and ordered him to get the hell out. He knows I can get a restraining order, so he packed a bag and got a suite at the Springs Hotel. I’ll allow him to come home when our daughter, Deena, comes in for a visit from U.S.C. In the meantime, he’s on his own.  And I can tell you this: if he ever lays a hand on me again, I’ll kill that sonofabitch.  I will. I swear it. I’m still pretty good with a pistol…got a few trophies to show for it.”

“Now, now Mary. When your backache eases you may feel a bit more charitable. Who knows, Peter may even put all his philandering behind him one day, and come back home to his true love.”

“Yeah, and I’m the virgin queen.”

Josh knew immediately how empty his words sounded, but he didn’t want Mary to leave without a word of hope or encouragement. “Does Deena know that you two have been at odds?”

“Of course. She enjoys a special relationship with her father, and I know she would like to see our feuding come to end.” Mary breathed deeply and sighed. “Truthfully, Josh, the prospect of a divorce, with the problems of property division and the inevitable court battles are more than I dare think about. I’ll try my best to tolerate the jackass—that is, at least until Deena finishes school or gets married.”

Josh bent over and kissed Mary on her cheek. “Try to rest and take the medication. I’ll notify PT to make arrangements to go to your home. Call me in a couple days and give me a progress report.”

Mary gave Josh a melancholy smile and held both his hands. “Why couldn’t I have married a sweet guy like you?” She took a small mirror from her purse to apply lipstick. She smacked her lips then ran her tongue around her lips before putting the mirror away. “When this back gets better I’m going to find me a virile dude for companionship.” She looked at Josh and arched an eyebrow. “Say, do you still make house calls?”


Death in the Saddle, Not a Western! is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!


Connect with A. J. Harris:

Website: http://www.murdermysterypress.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/DeathInTheSaddle

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