$25 GC – Running On Empty by Karin Fitz Sandford @partnersincr1me

Running on Empty by Karin Fitz Sanford Banner

RUNNING ON EMPTY

by Karin Fitz Sanford

September 16 – October 11, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Running on Empty by Karin Fitz Sanford

A WINE COUNTRY COLD CASE

 

An ex-FBI agent. A murder. And a Ponzi scheme that rocks the wine country.

Anne McCormack, a former FBI agent-turned-estate liquidator, must find out who murdered a beautiful socialite and dumped her body on a remote wine country road 16 years earlier. Could that killing be connected to a current-day Ponzi scheme that has bilked Santa Rosa residents? McCormack thinks so and sets out to solve the case—but she’ll have to keep her wits about her if she plans on outracing thieves and solving the murder without become a victim herself, for dark forces are working against her and she’s running out of people to trust.

Praise for Running on Empty:

“Full of fun clues, quirky characters and a great sense of place, Running on Empty is the perfect visit to California’s wine country.”
~ Rhys Bowen, New York Times bestselling author of the Royal Spyness and Molly Murphy mysteries

“The title of this latest Wine County Cold Case may be ‘Running on Empty,’ but the story’s certainly not. A full-bodied mystery with depth and bite, and a plot that’s meaty and lush. Savory, smoky, and smooth, from the first sip to the last.”
~ J.R. Sanders, Shamus Award-winning author of the Nate Ross mysteries

“With a freight train of a plot worthy of any seasoned crime writer—think Elmore Leonard, Karin Slaughter, and Raymond Chandler—Sanford delivers a timeless thriller and heroine in feisty, brilliant, and flawed ex-FBI agent Anne McCormack, who finds herself entangled (again) in a web of mystery and deception in Northern California’s wine country. The setting is but one of this book’s plentiful charms. There is a cold case—the decades-old murder of a socialite—and a devastating Ponzi scheme that will have readers turning pages well into the night.
Full of zigzagging cliffhangers, Running on Empty hooks readers from the first sentence and never lets up—not even when it looks like our heroes have run out of gas. I loved this book.”
~ David Samuel Levinson, author of Tell Me How This Ends Well

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Adventure/Detective
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: May 7, 2024
Number of Pages: 294
ISBN: 9781685126155 (ISBN10: 1685126154)
Series: A Wine Country Cold Case, 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Level Best Books

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

Santa Rosa, California

Anne McCormack surveyed the living room, casting her eyes from one gilt-framed oil painting to another, taking in the antique red tasseled lampshades, red flocked wallpaper, red floral overstuffed sofa, and the oriental rug woven with every imaginable shade of red. All that exuberant red reminded her of a magazine layout she’d seen featuring the late Vogue editor Diana Vreeland’s famous New York apartment. Tastefully garish.

The house was one of many Victorian homes lining McDonald Avenue, Santa Rosa’s historic “Victorian row.” The tree-lined boulevard was the filming location of several Hollywood classics, including the 1943 Shadow of a Doubt by Alfred Hitchcock, Disney’s 1960 Pollyanna, and the nineties camp horror film Scream. The Victorian in which Anne was standing was owned by her newest clients, the family of the recently deceased, very wealthy Lily Danielson, who had left behind more treasures and personal effects than her heirs could handle.

Those belongings were why Anne, owner of McCormack Estate Services, was here after eight o’clock on a Sunday night with her teenage assistant, Chloe Grindel. Anne’s job was to dispose of everything in the house, one way or another: to assess, catalog, toss out, put up for auction, sell, save for the family, or donate to charities. The executor, the family’s lawyer, wanted it all handled ASAP before any more troublesome family fights could break out. Fine, Anne thought, the sooner the job was done, the sooner she’d deposit a commission check on the proceeds of any sales.

They were still at the sorting and boxing up stage.

Seven banker’s boxes were stacked precariously in the middle of the room, the top ones on the verge of toppling over onto Chloe, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Next to her on the rug was an old diary she’d found in the bookcase. Chloe was packing up books—except for the first editions, which would be offered to dealers—and sighing theatrically.

“How are you doing over there?” Anne asked.

“Slow, very slow. I’m not fast like you are,” Chloe said, standing up to stretch, raising her arms to the heavens. “But then, you’ve been doing this for decades…”

“A slight exaggeration,” Anne said. In fact, she was fairly new to family estate services. She’d spent most of her twenties as an FBI agent in Sacramento’s Violent Crimes division. After six years, she left the Bureau voluntarily, under no cloud (You did not get fired, her Uncle Jack, a retired cop would insist). Under no cloud, that is, except the one she conjured up and obsessed over (But it did get ugly after they discovered I was using their high-security database software to track my ex-husband, she’d counter).

On the same day she was confronted by her supervisor, she dropped her resignation letter on his desk and walked out the door, vowing that her next career would be a complete 180 from law enforcement. She would follow her passions—researching art and its provenance—and someday be her own boss, health benefits or not. Turns out, those passions were the exact skills required for family estate sales services. And since it was a far cry from crime-fighting, she figured why not do it professionally? For two years she worked as an assistant to estate services guru Marty Holmes, who became her mentor in the business. His mantra: “Estate sales are not garage sales!” The estate sales business, he’d insist, is about helping families dispose of the treasures left behind after a loved one’s death, and then getting a big fat commission from the sales of said treasures. Period.

After learning the trade, Anne struck out on her own three years ago. If she’d ever imagined that being a business owner meant naming her own hours and taking long vacations, she was quickly proven wrong. The reality was that when business was good—and it finally was—she ended up working relentlessly long hours. Like tonight.

“After finishing that box, let’s call it a night,” she said. Chloe had school in the morning.

“Not yet,” Chloe pleaded. The girl was always angling for longer hours, arguing, “You won’t find cheaper or better child labor than me.” And Anne almost always relented. She knew that nearly every dollar Chloe earned was being squirreled away into her college fund. Besides, she liked Chloe’s company. Chloe was the favorite grandchild of one of Anne’s first clients, Claire Murray, whose death two years before had hit the teenager hard. Anne had grown fond of Claire and missed her too, and while she and Chloe worked, they would often swap Claire stories.

But recently, all Chloe wanted to talk about—when not complaining about her mother’s strict hours or the unfair soccer coach—was the “Battalion Chief” competition at her high school. Not much had changed about the yearly contest since Anne had participated: The student who searched private homes and collected the most “fire hazard” violation tickets was the winner. Back then, the winning prize was simply being named “Honorary Battalion Chief.” But this year, the stakes were high—a $25,000 college scholarship to the winner in each class, donated by a group of wealthy vintners who wanted to encourage fire safety in the wildfire-ravaged Sonoma County.

“I can put it toward any college I want. When I add that to what I’m making working for you, and what my parents can chip in, I might get to go to UC Berkeley, Harvard, or California College of the Arts, who knows!”

One of their phones pinged.

“Sky’s the limit,” Anne agreed, looking down at her phone. Nothing. She hadn’t heard from Scott, her boyfriend of three months, since their fight two days before. Nodding toward Chloe’s phone on the coffee table, she said, “Bet your mom wants you to come home.”

Chloe sauntered over to pick up her phone. Leaning against a wall, she stared intently at the screen—reading the text message, answering it, and reading the response.

“Oh, no,” Chloe blurted out. She slowly slid down the wall, crumbling to the hardwood floor. “There goes everything,” she said in a low, ominous tone. “Everything I’ve ever worked for.” She set her phone down beside her and hugged her knees to her chest.

Anne bit her lip to keep from smiling. How much work could Chloe have done in her short life? How much did she have to lose? Chloe was a month shy of being sixteen years old, not some frail senior citizen whose life savings were ruthlessly embezzled or whose house was destroyed in a fire without any insurance to cover rebuilding it. But as Anne watched tears well in Chloe’s eyes, she knew there was nothing even slightly amusing about whatever was going on. Chloe was heartbroken.

Anne crouched down in front of her. “What do you mean by ‘lost everything?’ What happened?” she asked in a gentle voice.

Chloe uncovered her eyes, let out a sigh, and pointed to her phone. “That girl. Pam O’Brien. Tomorrow is the last day to hand in our tickets to see who wins the scholarship. She asked me how many I had….”

“And?” Anne prompted.

“I told her I had forty-five, which is way more than anyone else in the class. The nearest kid to me is Justin Frey, and he only has thirty-two. Then Pam texted back, ‘Too bad, cause I have fifty.’ That’s five more than me,” Chloe’s voice broke. “I never even knew she was close!”

Fire hazard violations were hard to come by, as Anne well knew. She remembered having to screw up the courage to knock on the door of a neighbor or acquaintance, then taking a deep breath and asking permission to go poking through their house looking for fire hazards like loose wiring, stacks of newspapers, overloaded electrical outlets, aging space heaters. Most people were good-humored about it, accepted their copies of the tickets, and promised to do better. But others tried to talk her out of the tickets, thinking the violations would be reported to city officials and they’d be fined. That never happened, of course; the fallout would have ended the contest years ago.

“And she tells you this at 8:30 at night…”

“Too late…”

Anne stood up abruptly. “Where’s your book of tickets? In your backpack?”

“Yeah. For all the good it does me,” Chloe said, giving the bag a shove as if it were to blame for her crushed dreams, the late hour, Pam O’Brien’s taunts. Everything.

Anne reached out her hands to the sobbing girl and pulled her to her feet. She grabbed their jackets off the couch and tossed Chloe’s to her.

“Get in the car,” Anne said.

***

Excerpt from Running on Empty by Karin Fitz Sanford. Copyright 2024 by Karin Fitz Sanford. Reproduced with permission from Karin Fitz Sanford. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Karin Fitz Sanford

Karin Fitz Sanford, a former advertising copywriter, was born in New York but grew up in Northern California’s wine country, the setting for her Wine Country Cold Case series. Having run her own award-winning ad agency for over twenty-five years, she is a member of Sisters in Crime and lives in Northern California with her husband.

Catch Up With Karin Fitz Sanford:
www.FitzSanford.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @karin140
Instagram – @karinfitz8
Facebook – @karin.f.sanford

 

 

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$20 GC – Map Of My Escape by Cheryl L Reed @partnersincr1me @AuthrCherylReed @JournoReed

Map of My Escape by Cheryl L Reed Banner

MAP OF MY ESCAPE

by Cheryl L. Reed

June 10 – July 5, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Map of My Escape by Cheryl Reed

The shooting of a homicide detective is captured on film by a mysterious figure from a second-floor window, implicating Riley Keane, an anti-gun activist and a school shooting survivor. Riley flees Chicago for a frozen island in Lake Superior. A race to find her ensues between her secret lover—Chicago politician Finn O’Farrell—a corrupt police lieutenant, and the mysterious cameraman who extorts Riley’s family and Finn. Finn’s entanglement with Riley and the extortionist threatens his ambitious political career.

On the island, Riley ingratiates herself into the close-knit community, but when she witnesses both an islander’s murder and another death in a suspicious boating accident, the local sheriff starts asking questions that begin to unravel her true identity. As the sheriff and the FBI are closing in on Riley, Finn faces media pressure to reveal his mysterious role in that long ago school shooting. If the facts come out, Finn may go to prison, but his biggest fear is that the truth will forever sever his relationship with Riley.

Praise for Map of My Escape:

“Atmospheric and gritty, Reed’s tale of a woman on the run from her own shocking past will keep you rooting for her until the end. A dark thriller with a redemptive ending from a master of suspense.”
~ Jamie Freveletti, International Bestselling author of Blood Run

“Taut, atmospheric and unputdownable. Reed knows how to keep you turning pages!”
~ Candice Fox, International Bestselling author of Crimson Lake, now an ABC series Troppo

“Bending genres of police drama and adventure thriller, The Map of My Escape is both original and breathlessly page-turning!”
~ Wendy Walker, International Bestselling author of Don’t Look For Me

“Cheryl Reed’s Map of My Escape is a character-driven thriller, a poignant opposites-attract love story, and a journey of self-discovery. As secrets unfold and twists abound, Reed keeps us on a razor’s edge. An absolutely gripping read!”
~ John Copenhaver, award-wining author of The Savage Kind and Dodging and Burning

Map of My Escape combines tragic events, engaging characters, and unique locations to give readers one hell of a ride.”
~ Elena Taylor, author of All We Buried and the Eddie Shoes mysteries.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery and Detective
Published by: Running Wild Press
Publication Date: June 18, 2024
Number of Pages: 402
ISBN: 9781960018175 (ISBN10: 19600018175)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt from Map of My Escape:

I had often wondered what it would be like to disappear. As a teenager, I read books like Famous Female Fugitives and pored over stories in my mother’s magazines about women who had committed crimes with their boyfriends and ran. They changed their names, plucked birthdates off gravestones of dead babies to obtain new Social Security cards, and created new lives. I was never curious about the men who disappeared. The FBI’s Most Wanted lists were full of men who’d eluded cops for years, only later to be discovered as the quiet loner next door. The women fugitives, though sparse in number, were seldom quiet. They married, raised kids, built careers. Sara Jane even joined the PTA, acted on stage, and made speeches before her state senate. They lived their new lives in public as if they were flaunting the authorities in plain sight. I admired their tenacity.

There had been times in my life when I desperately wanted to disappear, when I dreamed of slipping away from the present and starting over somewhere else under a new identity. The pull became stronger after forty-four of my classmates, including my brother, and five of our teachers were killed by a guy in combat boots re-enacting his favorite video game.

I remember that day vividly. We were all at an assembly in the gym. I was sitting somewhere in the middle of the bleachers—they were the old-fashioned, accordion kind that pull out from the wall. I was reading index cards, trying to memorize trigonometry theorems for a test. Principal Brown was at the podium talking, but it was all background noise until a loud crack resounded through the gym. The metal doors at the front of the gym—the only way in or out—opened and slammed shut. Everyone turned to look. Even Principal Brown stopped talking mid-sentence. Darren Wallack, a guy no one paid much attention to, was standing at the gym entrance dressed like a Ninja warrior, a gun and ammo strapped across his chest, a rifle in his hands. He looked almost comical, except it wasn’t Halloween.

Nancy Greene, a whisper of a girl with thick glasses and braces, let out a high-pitched squeal. She was his first victim. Then pandemonium struck. Everyone moved at once. People climbed over others, trying to get away. Some hunkered down, attempting to hide. The air smelled of desperation and fear. Everyone was screaming, panicking. The gun blasted, again and again, loud, sharp cracks, like a whip cutting the air.

I noticed a guy slide his feet in between the thin slats of the bleachers. Our eyes met. He hesitated, then offered me his hand. We climbed down the support scaffolding. A few others chose to hide beneath the bleachers, too. We spread out in clumps of two and three as if we were safer with space between us. The stranger and I crouched in the corner, peaking through the gaps of the bleachers watching as Darren fired continuously, swinging his rifle from left to right like some character he’d seen in a bad movie.

“He’s going to kill us,” I whispered. I couldn’t breathe.

I’d never met this guy next to me, but his eyes were kind, reassuring. He was black. At our charter school, Blacks, Asians, Mexicans, and Whites didn’t mix.

“It’s going to be okay.” He patted my back. He seemed so calm.

Through the crack in the bleachers, we could see our classmates scrambling back and forth across the basketball court, shrieking terrified screams. Darren stalked them, firing a barrage of bullets until they slumped to the floor. I looked away. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Several rounds flew over our heads. “He’s coming toward us,” the guy said. “Get down.”

I lay on my stomach on the cold floor, the stranger next to me, convinced we were about to die. I thought about my family, my mother and father, and my older brother, who had just started college. And for a quick moment, I mourned for them. Then I thought about my younger brother, Ross. He was out there somewhere. I tried to remember where he was sitting. When was the last time I saw him?

“What is your name?” I whispered.

“What does it matter?”

“Because I don’t want my last minutes on earth to be spent with a complete stranger.”

“I’m Reece,” he said. “You’re Riley.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Everyone knows who you are.” He reached over and draped his arm across my back, his upper body forming a protective shield.

Darren’s boots stomped above our heads. Kids screamed, scuttled to get away. The gunfire sounded like firecrackers. I plugged my ears with my fingers. I couldn’t bear to hear it anymore. If Darren came down under the bleachers, we were dead. There was nowhere to run. It was the most horrifying fifteen minutes of my life.

Then the footsteps stopped.

We didn’t know if we could come out. We heard hard footfalls, police hollering as they hunted down Darren. It seemed like we were huddled down there for hours. When the police announced it was over, we walked out from under the bleachers like horror movie zombies.

That’s when we saw them.

Bodies were sprawled on the bleachers. They covered the gym floor, piled in some places. I recognized many of their faces, kids I saw in literature class or passed in the hallway. I stepped around them, my sneakers sticky with blood, looking for friends, anyone I knew. Then I recognized his mousey brown hair. His face looked serene as if he were taking a nap. He was wearing his new White Sox jacket with black sleeves and white on the torso. Our parents had given it to him for his birthday two weeks earlier. He only took it off to go to bed. Now the white part was ruby red. And my brother was never going to wake up.

For years afterwards, I dreamed about disappearing. Just up and walking out of my life—what was left of it. I hadn’t thought about my fugitive fascination in a long time. Of course, now it’s much harder to evade police in a digital age when a person’s every movement can be tracked. But I didn’t consider any of that the day I ran after shooting Reece.

Running is the natural reaction—even if you do not know where you are running to. The adrenaline and animalistic self-preservation kick in, leaving your brain a scrambled mess while your body takes over.

I drove in a daze, focused on the yellow line that I hoped would lead to a better future. Running from the cops is challenging for a normal person. But when you’re an activist and your mug shot is floating on police and FBI computers, vanishing is a lot harder. We are all electronic files, avatars moving from screen to screen, followed by one entity after another.

I had to jump off those screens. That meant no electronics of any kind—no phones, no GPS, no computers. If I wanted to escape, I had to do it old school, like the women in the Famous Female Fugitives.

***

Excerpt from Map of My Escape by Cheryl Reed. Copyright 2024 by Cheryl Reed. Reproduced with permission from Cheryl Reed. All rights reserved.

   

Author Bio:

Cheryl Reed

Cheryl L. Reed is the author of the nonfiction book Unveiled: The Hidden Lives of Nuns and the novel Poison Girls, which won the Chicago Writers’ Association Book of the Year. A former staff editor and reporter at the Chicago Sun-Times and other publications, Reed’s stories have won multiple awards, including Harvard’s Goldsmith Prize for Investigative Reporting. She has twice been awarded a U.S. Fulbright Scholar fellowship by the State Department, first in Ukraine and then in Central Asia. She splits her time between Washington, DC and her home near the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia.

Catch Up With Cheryl L. Reed:
CherylReed.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @cheryllynnreed
Instagram – @cheryllynnreed
Twitter/X – @AuthrCherylReed & @JournoReed
Facebook – @CherylLynnReed

Don’t miss this Interview Cheryl L. Reed on #BookTok!

   

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!
   

Win Big! Enter Now for Your Chance to Win!

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Cheryl L Reed. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
   

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Friday 56 #35 & BB #12 Death Sight and a freebie from David Bain

The Friday 56 is hosted by Freda’s Voice.

The only rules are to grab a book (any book), turn to page 56 or 56% in your ereader and find any sentence or a few ( no spoilers) that grabs you and post it.

Please join Rose City Reader every Friday to share the first sentence or so of the book you are reading along with you initial thoughts about the sentence, impressions of the book, or anything else the opener inspires.

Please include the title of the book and the author’s name.

~~~~~~~

I have been reading and reading and reading.

I finish one book and immediately begin on another.

I can’t seem to stop myself long enough to write the reviews.

~~~~~~

DEATH SIGHT by David Bain

A Will Castleton Novel

Will Castleton is a paranormal detective that mixes crime with the supernatural.

Will Castleton is from my home state of Michigan, so, of course, that adds a little something extra. 🙂

I love the cover and it makes me want to dive right in!

add-to-goodreads-button

(page 56% on Kindle)

“I know. You corrected everybody. You corrected Brooks Welling, the quarterback…Not ‘buffalo’, you told him – boo – foo – low!”

Boo-foo was Green River speak for butt-fucking,” Will said.

(You will have to read more to get the joke)

(Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a really good tease, so I decided to share a little bit of the writers sense of humor in his writing)
~~~~~~~~~~~

(Book Beginnings)

The dark stared at him with dark, empty, accusing sockets that formerly held their eyes.

Will’s feet were rooted in a nightlit desert.

A full moon. A dry, coppery odor to the air. Cacti. Rocks. Low dunes rising out of the ankle-deep water – for the desert was also the shore of an infinite sea.

One of him. Hundreds of them – everyone who would now die because he was still alive, all the ghosts hw would ever create, ever encounter.

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

SYNOPSIS

Hospitalized after drowning during a rescue attempt, newly graduated U.S. Marshal Will Castleton is besieged by visions of a hulking executioner torturing a bound man.

A perilous race against time leaves Will broken, unsure if he even wants to join the marshals.

Escaping to his Michigan hometown, Will finds his father dying, a young woman’s ghost desperate to communicate with him, and a biker kingpin out to make a statement by taking out local law enforcement’s golden boy.

Here is a free paranormal short story from David Bain.

MY REVIEW

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To see all my Reviews, go HERE.
To see all my Giveaways, go HERE.

If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?

animated smilies photo: animated animated.gifLook on the right sidebar and let’s talk.

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

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This Super Short Story Blew Me Away!!!

I loved, loved, loved this super short story.

It, simply, blew my away.

I can’t help but keep repeating myself. lol

A must read for anyone who loves the paranormal.

To get your free copy, go HERE.

 

Add to Goodreads

Will had almost drowned. He woke up with a psychic gift, but he thought of it as a curse.

corona and lime Pictures, Images and PhotosBecause of the accident, he had been crucified in the press. He lost his girlfriend and his reputation.

Now, he was hanging out in Florida, walking on the beach, with his usual Corona in his hand. He saw her in the clouds and knew he only had minutes to save her.

MY REVIEW

The cover grabbed me and I knew I had to read this super short story. The title fits the book to a tee.

The book mentions Michigan and Florida, two places I am very familiar with. That always peaks my interest.

The book captured me from the first page. I devoured it, the suspense leading me to race through it to find out what was going to happen. I was so disappointed when it came to an end. There was so much I read into the story, I feel this could easily have been developed into a novel. I would love to read more about Will, his life and the people who call out to him through his psychic connection to them.

Excellent writing. I am amazed that so much was packed into a story that it took me (maybe) ten minutes to read. I felt like I knew Will and what he was going through. I definitely want to read more from this author.

I had this in my read to review folder, but I believe I got it on an Amazon freebie day. I put it in the folder, because I had a very good feeling about it and wanted to make sure I didn’t forget about it. I didn’t want to lose it in my humongous list of books on my Kindle. LOL

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos   5 STARS – Would Buy It For Them (lol)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Image of David Bain  The author of GRAY LAKE: A NOVEL OF CRIME AND SUPERNATURAL HORROR, the Will Castleton series of supernatural detective stories and novels, and several short story collections, David Bain is a community college English professor with well over 100 shorter publications in venues as diverse as Weird Tales and POEMS & PLAYS.

Blog  /  Twitter  /   Amazon Author Page

David has numerous books for purchase, these are only a few.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
To see all my Reviews, go HERE.
To see all my Giveaways, go HERE.

If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?

animated smilies photo: animated animated.gifLook on the right sidebar and let’s talk.

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

Thanks for visiting fundinmental!