The Spotlight is on Soul Love by D F Jones @pumpupyourbook


 


Soul Love is a spellbinding tale of time travel, past lives, and an unbreakable romance that transcends the ages, proving that true love is never lost.



Title: Soul Love

Author: D.F. Jones

Publication Date: September 3, 2024

Pages: 160

Genre: Fantasy/Time Travel Romance/ Past Lives Romance

From USA Today bestselling author D.F. Jones comes Soul Love, a mesmerizing tale of past lives, time travel, and an unbreakable bond that transcends time itself.

What if a simple dinner invitation could change your life forever?

When Summer Jewel accepts a dinner invitation from her enigmatic new neighbor, her world is turned upside down. Suddenly transported to 1926 Heartsville, she uncovers shocking truths about a past life she never knew existed. This revelation ignites a journey brimming with turbulent emotions and undeniable desires, leaving her questioning everything she thought she knew.

Meanwhile, Rogan Randolph, a dedicated agent of The Order of the Invisible Effect, is tasked with subtly guiding the course of human history. His orderly world is thrown into chaos when a portal to his own past unexpectedly opens, offering him a chance to right a wrong. His mission becomes inextricably linked with Summer’s, as she is the very woman he encounters in the future.

Together, Summer and Rogan must navigate the intricate complexities of love and destiny, confronting the mysteries of their intertwined past lives. Their actions ripple through time, challenging the very fabric of reality and altering the course of their journey. True love is never lost, and some connections last forever.

Escape into Soul Love, where destiny and passion weave a captivating narrative that explores the enduring power of love and the intriguing possibilities of fate.

Prepare to be swept off your feet with this spellbinding story of love, loss, and the magic of second chances.

Soul Love is available at Amazon.

 


Book Excerpt:



“Summer ventured out the side pedestrian door, her gaze drawn to the moving activity. Three men were unloading furniture from the truck, one clearly in charge. As their eyes met, Summer felt a sudden rush of nervousness.

She approached her mailbox, and one of the men raised his hand in greeting. She fumbled with a piece of junk mail. “Moving in?” she called out.

He walked to the end of the driveway. “Hi, I’m Erik, the designer.” Without waiting for her response, he quickly asked, “Have you ever met the owners?”

How odd. “Um. No. Why? Haven’t you?”

“I hoped you might know them. We worked through an attorney who never disclosed their names.” He shrugged. “No harm in asking.”

“I love the house. Is there any chance I could peek inside?” Sure, it was forward of her, but it might be the only way to satisfy her curiosity.

Erik nodded. “This is our last load of furniture, so why not? I love showing off my work.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’m posting the project online. I would appreciate it if you’d leave a glowing comment on social media.” His hands tented.

“Sure thing.” Summer hated social media but took his card anyway.

She followed him up the painted plank steps through the open door.

An elaborate crystal chandelier hung in the entry. In front of her, the rich mahogany staircase dazzled against a backdrop of blue-green textured walls. A baby grand piano was positioned in the living room corner to the left of a rock fireplace. The art over the mantel looked like a Renoir. She wondered if it was an original or a reproduction.

Then something weird happened. The hair on her neck and arms rose. She had a deja vu feeling as if she had been there before. Trying to shake off the unsettling sensation, she turned in a slow circle and said, “It’s beautiful, better than I even imagined. I love it!”

Erik seemed pleased with her assessment, grinning from ear to ear. “I chose warm, rich colors. I can’t stand the fact that most designers are like sheep. The minimalists’ interior design with white is so overused and blah,” he said with an eye roll. “I updated the lighting fixtures and completely renovated the central kitchen. It’s three stories with the attic and a downstairs complete with a cookery and staff rooms.”

A mover dropped one end of a very expensive-looking bureau. Erik shouted, “Do not scratch the floors or furniture.” Then he glanced apologetically at Summer. “I’ve got to work. I have a deadline with instructions to leave the house by seven o’clock this evening. Feel free to look around.”

Yippee—freedom’s call echoed in her heart, inviting her to explore uninhibited. Summer drifted through the library first. Its walls were lined with ancient, leather-bound books. The scent of old paper and the hushed tales of forgotten lore surrounded her, igniting a thrill only a true book lover could understand and appreciate. Each step was a dance with history as her fingers trailed over the spines, noting the weight in their textured covers.

The library seamlessly gave way to an entertainment room, where contemporary met old-world design, asserting itself with an audacious flair. A large, ultra-high-definition television screen dominated one wall, surrounded by a state-of-the-art sound system. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from cleverly hidden sources, casting a glow that accentuated luxurious furnishings from the plush, angular sofa to the gleaming, geometric coffee table.

The kitchen made a bold statement with its brand-new stainless-steel appliances, rustic oak cabinets, and white and gray marble counters. The walk-in pantry door was ajar, so she peeked inside to find it vast and orderly, a trove of culinary possibilities. She suspected exotic spices and gourmet delights filled the closed shelves and drawers.

Adjacent to this culinary haven, a set of narrow, almost secretive steps curled upward, their very existence a whisper of intrigue. She glanced furtively over her shoulder. Erik was absorbed in positioning the remaining pieces in the living room.

Her pulse quickened with the thrill of undercover exploration. Memories of countless novels she had devoured over the years surged within her—a cascade of adventures, hidden rooms, and undiscovered treasures that had always seemed worlds away were now seemingly within her grasp. With each step into the unknown, her pulse quickened with anticipation, and her mind buzzed. What secrets and mysteries lay hidden in this century-old home?

Summer hustled up the stairs, bypassed the second floor, and continued into the attic. She’d long fantasized about writing a novel in such a superb, renovated space with its black, charcoal walls and a shade darker woodwork, a cozy white sofa with black and gold accent pillows—and how she loved the black lacquer desk. The lighting included several sconces with candle-like bulbs that glimmered warmly. It was a nice touch. She murmured, “Totally jealous of the owners.”

She peered through the horizontally installed cameo windows, the view of which looked directly at her house. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shimmering swirling blue light materialized on the other side of the room. It formed a doorway of sorts, like beams of a hidden sun trapped within its frame, defying the laws of physics and reality.

What the heck? Summer cautiously approached, each step filled with fear and fascination. She reached out tentatively toward the opening, her hand trembling slightly. Was it a gateway to worlds unseen?

But Erik’s appearance on the top step jolted her back to reality just before her fingers could graze the pulsating energy. As if responding to his intrusion, the portal vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a blank wall devoid of any clue to its mysterious existence.

She struggled to process what she had just witnessed. Was the ethereal light a trick of nature? A figment of her imagination? The silence that enveloped the room was heavy with unspoken questions, the air charged with the residue of the inexplicable.”

– Excerpted from Affiliate Marketing for Beginners by Audrey K. Andado, Allenjo Publishing, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

 

About the Author

USA Today Best-Selling Author, #1 International Bestseller, #1 Amazon Bestseller, D. F. Jones began her career as a broadcast consultant at the ABC Affiliate in Nashville, which led her to open an advertising agency. She downsized her agency to care for her parents. Writing is a source of creative expression for D.F. Jones, but it also releases stress. Writing takes her to a place where anything is possible, and fiction takes her to a place made of dreams.

Whether it’s angels and demons, time travel adventures, witches, wizards, or ghosts, her books are action-packed with supernatural and romantic elements.

She’s happily married to the love of her life and best friend. They have two beautiful sons whom she loves and adores more than life itself. She loves to laugh, and her husband keeps her in stitches! She’s a fan of the Tennessee Titans and enjoys working in her flower gardens.

Website http://www.dfjonesauthor.com 

Twitter https://twitter.com/Author_DFJones 

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/DFJones.author  

Instagram https://instagram.com/D.F.Jones_Author 

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/GoodreadscomdfjonesAuthor




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The Spotlight Is On The Flying Barons Of Negriponti @pumpupyourbook @rtamayo2004

 


In the ruins of a fallen Empire, the first ever female pilot takes part in a flying boat race to free her people from the foreign oppression…

Title: The Flying Barons of Negriponte (The Aether Empire Book 1)

Author: James Calbraith

Publication Date: September 20, 2023

Pages: 134

Genre: Historical Fantasy/Candlepunk

They killed her father. They took her ship. But nothing will stop Ikaria’s vengeance.

Forty years since Constantinople fell to the Venetian flying citadels, high-altitude Aether racing is the favoured pastime of bored, wealthy Latin nobles. Ikaria, proud daughter of a legendary Aether engineer and one of the best racing pilots in the Aegean, is determined to uncover the truth behind her father’s mysterious disappearance at the end of the last Grande Regatta of Negriponte.

Driven by the thirst of vengeance and pursuit of engineering excellence in equal measures, Ikaria vows to win the next Regatta herself – and to find out what really happened to her father. But there’s a catch: a new Imperial edict bars her, and anyone not of noble blood, from taking part in Aether races. To her rescue comes Sire Mikhael of Chiarenza – an enigmatic handsome young Greek turncoat in the service of new Latin masters. His motivations unclear, the source of his funds and supplies a secret, Ikaria nonetheless agrees to accept his help: together, they set out to challenge the supremacy of the six Hexarchs, the infamous Flying Barons of Negriponte.

Pick up your copy of The Flying Barons of Negriponte at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CJKXXQB1 .



Book Excerpt:

A black-headed gull landed on the bowsprit. It glanced around, confused as to why a small, sleek sailboat suddenly appeared in its path in the middle of a billowing cloud hundreds of feet above the surface of the sea. Its eyes met Ikaria’s; the bird squawked in indignation and spread its wings as if to protest this sin against God and nature. A sudden, violent gust pushed it off the spar. Still squawking in disgust, the gull continued on its way while the boat pushed onwards, deeper into the cloud and out the other side.

A white-washed dot of Saint Elijah’s chapel appeared among the rocky outcrops, marking the eastern end of the Chalcis Pass. Ikaria reached under her tunic and took out a small brass key, inlaid with a piece of ruby glass, hung on a silver chain at her neck. Gingerly, she inserted it into a slot in the side of the Caput Chamber and turned it a quarter to the right. A conduit linking the Inhibitor Retort with the Tribikos Manifold hissed, indicating a forming air gap. She turned the spigot in the nozzle, releasing half a dram of the Inhibitor into the Sublimation Aludel. It took another few moments for the reaction to start. She turned to the Hygroscope and observed the four liquids behind the pane of rock crystal: a mixture of quicksilver, aqua fortis, brine and fish oil, each coloured with a different hue of vitriol, indicated the proportion of gaseous Quintessence – the Naviferous Aether – in the air under the hull. The liquids bubbled behind the crystal, reacting to a sudden change in pressure, then stabilised at the new levels, layer upon layer, at their respective measuring notches carved in the crystal pane. And then – a new layer emerged where there shouldn’t be one: a fifth, ruby-coloured liquid filled out the unmarked space between the quicksilver and aqua fortis.


– Excerpted from The Flying Barons of Negriponte by James Calbraith, Flying Squid, 2023. Reprinted with permission.




About the Author

James Calbraith is a Poland-born Scottish writer of history-adjacent novels, coffee drinker, Steely Dan fan and avid traveller.

Growing up in communist Poland on a diet of powdered milk, “Lord of the Rings” and soviet science-fiction, he had his first story published at the ripe age of eight. After years of bouncing around Polish universities, he moved to London in 2007 and started writing in English. Now lives in Edinburgh, hoping for an independent Scotland.

His debut historical fantasy novel, “The Shadow of Black Wings“, has reached Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award semi-finals in 2012. “The Year of the Dragon” saga sold over 30,000 copies worldwide.

His new historical fiction saga, “The Song of Ash” has been on top of Amazon’s Bestseller lists in UK for months. 

Connect with James:

Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Bookbub | Wattpad | Quora

 


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Review – Luna’s Veil by Wes Verde @pumpupyourbook @WesVerde

 


In the depths of despair, Leonard Burton must unravel the eldritch mysteries surrounding his wife’s death before he is consumed by the malevolent forces lurking beneath Luna’s Veil…

Title: Luna’s Veil

Author: Wes Verde

Publication Date: June 29, 2024

Pages: 328

Genre: Horror

The fabulous cover for Luna’s Veil by Wes Verde fits the story inside. I love horror that involves a creature. Wes has done a great job at presenting good and evil in a way that kept me engrossed, flipping pages as the danger intensifies.

Leonard Burton is in jail for the murder of his wife. He knows no one will believe what really happened…until Cecil enters the picture. They are both on the hunt for the evil that walks the earth, so they join forces. The battle is prolonged and they do not escape unscathed.

If you are looking for a good vs evil horror story that will have you hanging on by the skin of your teeth, look no further. Luna’s Veil by Wes Verde is filled with suspense, danger, and death, having me guessing who will live and who will die.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Luna’s Veil by Wes Verde.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

Leonard Burton wakes up to find his life in ruins. His wife is dead, and no one believes his story about what killed her – he’s not even sure he believes it himself. Now, in jail for the crime and with no friends, his prospects are bleak. That is, until he is rescued by Dr. Cecil Gainor, an enigmatic investigator and perhaps the only other man who knows what unnatural horrors are really at work.

Unfortunately, more questions arise when Cecil’s partner disappears while chasing the same dark forces responsible for the death of Lenny’s wife. The two men realize they must follow the trail themselves, or many other lives may be at risk.

What follows is a race against time to clear Lenny’s name and find the real killers before the full moon. The death and destruction that has already been suffered is nothing compared to what will occur beneath Luna’s Veil.

You can check out his book at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D1LK45JH

Book Excerpt:


Prologue:

“Wait here, please.”

It was a simple enough request, if unexpected. They had invited him, why make him wait now? Lacking for other options, he complied, but kept still to avoid appearing nervous. Much was at stake.

After several minutes of nothing, it occurred to him that impersonating a statue for this long might arouse suspicion in itself. And so he began pacing. As more time passed without any sign of his host, his feigned boredom became genuine and he took account of the vestibule.

It spoke of wealth. The immaculate white tiles were surely mopped following the passage of each visitor. Damask wallpaper with raised patterns that might have been real silk covered all four walls. The doors leading to the house proper were intricate and solid and – to this visitor’s mild discomfort – locked for some reason. He could not say for certain that he was trapped since he had not attempted return to the street, but such an act might have tipped his hand.

It mattered little. He would not allow himself to leave yet.

As his nerves got the better of him, he touched his cheek, recently shaved for the first time in months and the smooth skin felt foreign. To make matters worse, it occurred to him that in his haste, he neglected to put the razor away back home. At least he was confident the other parcel was secure.

This was all wrong. Really, he shouldn’t be here alone, but there had been no time to send for Cecil. Events were happening quickly and so he had been forced to act.

His discomfort notwithstanding, they needed this lead. The missing persons were a matter of concern unto themselves, but the reason behind the disappearances was quite another. 

For want of better options, he examined the room’s central feature in more detail and quickly decided that he would never understand art. The clever drawings advertising soda pop or ice cream were about the extent of his appreciation.

This piece was something beyond. It was possible, he supposed, that he lacked the ability to comprehend the subtle nuances or else it was exactly as it appeared.

The room’s only piece of furniture was a table that might have cost more than a modest car, but atop it was a sculpture of a man. Or at least, it was a human of some kind. That was part of the confusion. While skillfully executed, the figure was twisted into a shape that no circus contortionist could possibly get into without snapping one’s spine. The face and posterior were somehow contrived within inches of each other.

A complete lack of genitalia was apparent and a mirror provided view of the opposite side along with this visitor’s expression of mild disgust. Noticing himself, the agent carefully relaxed his face. In his fifty some years of life and unique line of work, he had been jaded by things that defied both reason and standard decorum. The macabre contortionist perhaps bothered him more than it should have and it took a moment to realize why.

His eyes were drawn back to the mirror. As a young man, hunting in the Pine Barrens, he had developed a sense for movement and of being watched, a skill which he had honed to a sixth sense. When he detected such now it put his hairs on end. But in looking up, he saw nothing.

Staring for perhaps a full minute without any sign of movement or other smoking gun beyond his own reflection, the feeling nonetheless persisted. Knowing he was being watched was not in itself unsettling, but in the interim he had cause to ponder the summation of oddities.

A provocative art piece in the middle of an otherwise empty room would surely draw attention as would the mirror deliberately placed behind it. A mirror that he was now sure was a one-way observation window. This left him with the question that rattled him: was he meant to understand the fact that he was being watched?

The door clicked with the manipulation of the lock from the far side. The butler reappeared and wordlessly motioned for him to proceed.

Following, they soon arrived in a dining room, just as fine in quality as he had come to expect in this house. A long table lined with chairs and place settings occupied most of the space.

“Are we meant to have an early dinner?” he asked the butler. The hour was wrong, but he felt compelled to make some kind of sound. The silence inside the house was pressing.

When the butler made no response, save to ask him to wait again, the agent’s eyes were drawn back to the table. Judging from the chairs, it was likely a work of art in itself and something that a man would want to show off. The tablecloth was strange.

The click of a shutting door momentarily broke his concentration and he realized that he was once again locked-in.

Does he suspect something? he wondered. Thus far, he had managed to resist niggling doubts, but the fact that he was being drawn further into this house was difficult to overlook.

He took a breath, counted to four and considered the fact they had not patted him down for a weapon. The one way mirror also came to mind; surely there were similar means of surreptitious observation in this room as well and he took care not to glance at his ankle. The .380 Colt pressed reassuringly against his skin. Six rounds were not much, but he had faced worse odds before. Of course, that was years ago.

The table. Odd that it was covered. Odder still what it was covered with. What at first appeared to be squiggly lines refined into text upon closer observation. Pages from a book. There was no telling for how long the host would make him wait this time and no sense in appearing anxious if he was in fact being observed. He read the nearest line.

And when he was out of the ship, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit.

“Is that…?”

He read another line. Then another page. He examined the rest of the table and found the pages were similar. It was no simple reprinting, but an actual tapestry of paper pages. He inhaled.

One… two… three…

His face remained as stone. This was another provocation, he was sure. A tablecloth made from Bible pages was sure to elicit a wide range of emotions. Would the subject show revulsion? Offense? Perhaps amusement. And all of it discretely observed from somewhere out of sight. Surely, it would tell his yet-to-be-revealed host any number of things about his state of mind. Or at the very least, get under his skin.

The agent opted to refrain from any emotional display at all only to realize that such a withdrawal was itself a reaction of another kind. Then in the next moment, wondered if that was a mistake to reveal that he was onto the game. Surely, it would only give the mysterious tycoon cause to double his efforts at subterfuge.

He had come to this house thinking himself a cat, only to discover with increasing certainty that he was in fact the mouse.

Hands at his side. Level breathing. Conscious of his body language, he took great care to avoid fidgeting or revealing his distress. There was still a job to do and if he failed in this meeting there was no telling how many more would suffer for his bungling of an opportunity. It was almost enough to make him long for the simpler days of decorating cakes.

A new door opened. This time it was not the butler but a new man. He did not have the understated, borderline meek demeanor of household staff, but quite the opposite. Half a head taller than the agent and broad in shoulder, he was anything but subtle. Security?

The guard did not acknowledge the man in any way, but merely held the door and looked off to a neutral spot on the wall. Lacking for options, the agent obliged the tacit request to continue and braced for what would surely be another test.

It was a living room or perhaps a library. They were surrounded by books, but built with comfort in mind. It smelled of old paper, leather, and – strangely – Lysol. His footfalls muffled by a deep pile carpet, he approached the only furniture present. Two chairs took up the center of the room, facing each other.

This time, he was not forced to wait long at all. Muffled giggling, indistinct and somewhere from the depths of the house could be heard in the otherwise still room. Without speaking, the guard moved to a door on the opposite side of the room and opened it precisely in time so the new arrival and his companion did not even need to break stride as they entered the library.

It was surreal, seeing this face in person for the first time. Until now, this handsome jaw line and wavy, dark hair had only existed in newspaper clippings and photographs taken from afar. He had a charming, easy way about him. So much so that the agent had to remind himself of what this target was capable of.

Hens. Eggs.

“Mr. Crenshaw,” the young man greeted. “So glad you were able to accept my invitation.”

It was the name the agent had provided during their correspondence and was, of course, a pseudonym.

The agent replied automatically, but was not sure what to make of his host’s companion.

“Happy to do it, Mr. ah…”

“Please. Make yourself comfortable. Sit.” He made no move to introduce the woman, or even acknowledge her presence.

She followed, but as there were only two chairs, it was not clear where she was meant to sit. On his host’s insistence, “Crenshaw” took his seat first. Considering the size of the room, the seats were placed unnecessarily close together. He thought about sliding backward, but did not want to draw attention.

This would be the most delicate part of the operation.

To say they sat across from each other would imply there was some kind of gap, but their knees were practically touching and then the young woman took her seat on the host’s leg.

Ten years a widower and Crenshaw had seen few women in that time. Of those, none were as lovely as this one. Such was their proximity that her perfume wafted over him. The younger man had still made no overt indication that he was even aware of her presence, keeping his eyes patiently and resolutely fixed upon Crenshaw.

“I must say, I was intrigued by your proposal,” the host went on. “Your story really touched my heart.” The very edge of a grin curled up one corner of his mouth.

Then, the woman started bouncing. Her giggling never quite rose high enough to drown out the conversation, but teased at that threshold. She sensed the precise level at which it would become impossible to ignore and deliberately stayed below it.

Had he been a younger man, he might have been too stunned by the proximity and her state of dress to think clearly, but thankfully Crenshaw had achieved that enlightened age where the female form had lost just a bit of its mystery. Nonetheless, he was stumped in another way.

This is another test. How best to proceed then?

The host motioned for him to speak, as though there were no reason he would not do so. It helped to avoid looking at the girl, despite the fact that her exposed legs were now brushing against his pants. For a moment, he struggled to remember his cover story. He cleared his throat to buy a few more seconds.

“I’m glad that it did. Your philanthropy is rather famous in certain circles.”

“A man does what he can. What did you say was the name of your establishment?”

He paused. “St. Theresa’s Home for Children. We’re a rather small organization and so it hasn’t appeared in any of the registries as yet.”

“I see.” He narrowed his eyes for the span of a breath and then relaxed again. “I’ll confess I do have something of a soft spot in my heart when it comes to orphans. Comes from not yet having any children of my own, I suppose. May I assume that you would be looking for some kind of financial contribution?”

Crenshaw resisted the urge to bite his lip.

“Actually, I was hoping you might share your secret.”

He stared blankly, long enough for the girl to bounce two times before he responded.

“And what secret would that be?”

“You have a great skill at finding homes for your wards. According to the Home for Children in Jersey City, you relocated no less than five in the span of a month. Our organization is somewhat smaller, but we are blessed with contributions. What we lack is your reach and influence and – most unfortunately – facilities to house them all. At the worst of times our charges must share two or even three to a bed. It’s an untenable situation.”

“Homes,” he repeated. Working his jaw in thought, he placed a hand on his companion’s leg. She responded with a flash of concern before stopping and then switched to slowly wiggling her hips back and forth. “Yes, I think that’s something we could accommodate. About how many are you currently trying to move?”

“Six would be a good start. But of course, all twelve would be ideal.”

“And their ages?”

“Between seven and eleven.”

“I see. This is fortunate. As it happens, I was recently speaking with a colleague of mine who knows several interested families. How soon?”

“Immediately. If you provide an address, I can have them transported tomorrow.”

The host blinked. “Don’t trouble yourself. I have an associate who can pick them up from your facility. Where are you located?” He tapped the girl and she resumed bouncing on his leg, apparently relieved.

Crenshaw forced a smile. “Sir, you do too much. Your help is already more than enough and I couldn’t ask you to provide transport on top of that.”

“Are you opposed to visitors, Mr. Crenshaw?” His eyes narrowed and his tone dropped.

“Nothing of the sort. We just-”

“That is not his name,” interrupted a voice from somewhere unseen. “And he lies.”

This time, the woman stopped moving entirely as a look of real fear crossed her face. Annoyed, the host pushed her off his lap. Heels clacking, she fled the room and the young man leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Already close, now they bordered on intimate.

“Concerned about a break-in perhaps?”

The situation was tenuous, but perhaps salvageable despite the Crenshaw moniker being compromised. He thought of the gun, but down near his ankle it was effectively blocked. Perhaps there was still a way to recover.

His head began to itch, but he fought the urge to fidget and cleared his throat instead.

“Certainly not. We have nothing worth stealing. We simply find that it’s best to avoid too many unfamiliar faces. For the sake of the children.”

“He lies again,” said the disembodied and foreign voice. The high back of the chair prevented Crenshaw from looking around. “This is the same presence I felt at the office.”

Crenshaw’s heart sank. They knew about the office? How was that possible? He had been meticulous in covering his tracks.

He recovered his composure, but with the host sitting so close and no girl to hide behind, the damage was done.

“Been mucking around in places you ought not be?”

Things had soured beyond recovery and not-Crenshaw considered his options. He had but one card left to play. With as much strength as he could muster, he kicked against the opposite chair, sending the young man skidding backward to a safer distance. At such speed, it snagged on the lip of the rug and he flipped onto his back.

In the same motion, he pulled up his pant leg and reached for the .380. Recalling the guard in the corner and how many locked doors were between this room and the outside, he had no delusions about escape. This mission had just turned into a one-way trip. At least he would cut the head off the snake; not an ideal trade, but one he would pay gladly.

Only he never got the opportunity.

Both his arms were seized at the exact same time. He never even got a full grip on the Colt. He looked up at two expressionless faces as the pair of goons hauled him from the chair and shoved him into the floor. In their eyes was something impossible, but they pinned him facedown on the rug before he could think about it.

Overpowered and overwhelmed, not-Crenshaw struggled for a moment before the reality of the situation became impossible to ignore.

Breathing into the carpet, the bristles roughed up his freshly-shaved cheek and he grit his teeth. Things went still then. The host, having composed himself once more, crouched beside him.

“Who else knows you’re here?”

No one. He left notes back at the stilt house office, but they only contained the false address, which led to an innocuous building from which he was ferried here. Anyone who followed his footsteps would arrive at a dead end. And even then, there was no telling how long someone from the Organization would be in checking in on him. By then it would be too late.

“My whole team,” he answered instead. “Where you live. What you’re up to. The Cult of Dagon. You’re finished.”

Another pair of shoes stepped into view. “He lies again. No one is coming.”

“Well spotted, brother. We’ll dump his body in the river. Food for the Deep Ones.”

“Not just yet. You stole a book – a diary – from the office, yes? Where is it?”

He said nothing.

“Hm. Perhaps he might benefit from the Seed.”

The host exchanged an uneasy look with the unseen speaker.

“Are you sure?”

“He stole some of our secrets. Why not return the favor?”

And with that, Crenshaw’s head went into a bag and he saw no more.





About the Author

Wes Verde is an engineer by trade, a busybody by habit, and a lifelong Jersey boy.

A fan of nature, he spends as much time outside as possible.

His latest book is the horror/action novel, Luna’s Veil.

Author Links  

Website | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Instagram | YouTube

 




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Christmas Cheers – Scrapper’s Christmas Story by Maria J Andrade @birdchat @pumpupyourbook

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

A wonderfully illustrated story about a small dog with a big heart and a man with an even bigger one. I loved it. The illustrations are colorful and detailed. I feel a child would love to reach out and touch them. A story that is sure to capture anyone’s heart and spread the Christmas spirit.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

An Angel tells the story of a good hearted street dog named, “Scrapper,” who longs to find a love and a home. An amazing turn of events makes his dream come true on Christmas Day!

  • Format 36 pages, Paperback
  • Published November 18, 2022 by Clara Publishing
  • ISBN 9781734290004 (ISBN10: 1734290005)

ABOUT MARIA J ANDRADE

Maria Andrade is a Latinx author of adult and children’s books. She was born in the middle of the earth in Ecuador South America and raised in NY. and California. She was a licensed psycotherapist for thirty years.. She traveled with the Four Winds Society where she studied and was initiated into Andean shamanism in 1990

As a psychotherapist she specialized in relationship and women’s issues and founded the Wise Women’s Circle a ritualistic and transpersonal study group where women support each other in healing and growth of mind, body, and spirit. It is still active today.

Some of Maria books for children and adults are translated into Spanish.www.booksasfriends.com
Like her Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/mariaandrade…

Website / Twitter / Facebook / Instagram / LinkedIn / Pinterest

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The Spotlight Is On The Epsilon Account by Joni Parker @PumpUpYourBook

 

In a thrilling mystery of intrigue, the Elfin Keeper of the Keys, Alex, uncovers a sinister plot to steal the gold set aside for the Golden Harvest by a rival group of Elves, who will stop at nothing to get it.

Title: The Epsilon Account: The Golden Harvest Series Book 1
Author: Joni Parker
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 388
Genre: Fantasy/Science Fiction Hybrid

goodreads add to

Thousands of years ago, Eledon was created for the Elves by their Mentors when they were forced to leave Earth. At least, that’s how the legend goes. In return, the Elves must pay them a tribute in gold, known as the Golden Harvest, every four thousand years. The Elfin Council of Elders appoints Lady Alexin (Alex) Dumwalt, the Keeper of the Keys, to manage the next payment, due 244 years from now. That is, until the Mentors show up unexpectedly and demand immediate payment of the Epsilon Account. Since the Harvest has never been called that, Alex suspects foul play and uncovers a sinister plot by the Star Elves, a rival clan from the Constellations, who want to steal the gold. To make matters worse, they’re willing to do anything to succeed to include murder. Can Alex stop them and save the Elfin gold before it’s too late?

Buy Link:

Amazon


Book Excerpt  


It worked! The emergency contact system I had set up with the help of my Elf grandfather really worked. With this system, I could leave the magical Keys of Eledon with my grandfather, just in case something disastrous happened, like a flood or a quake. My grandfather had been the Keeper of the Keys before me, so he could fill in as needed, but if there was something he couldn’t handle, he’d sent Lord Hillen for me. 

Lord Hillen had been in London recently to investigate the presence of Elf slaves in the mortal world and had posed as my Uncle James. If he needed to contact me, his lordship would use the portal and call me on a pay phone on the street corner outside of Hyde Park. We rehearsed it several times to make sure it worked. Unfortunately, when he called for real, I was the middle of a fashion show in Paris. 

A few months ago, I signed a five-year contract to work as a fashion model for the Echelon Modeling Agency owned and operated by Andrew Miller. The next day, my exile to the mortal world ended, and I was allowed to return to Eledon. But since I had signed a contract, I felt obligated to finish it, so I asked for and received permission from the Elfin Council of Elders to do so. Five years meant nothing to the Elves. 

My mobile phone rang when I returned backstage to change into my next outfit. I should have let it go to voicemail, but the caller ID said it was Mrs. MacDougall, the dog walker from Hyde Park in London. Why would she be calling me? Then I recalled how much Lord Hillen had liked the woman, so I answered it. 

“Mrs. MacDougall? This is Alex. You’re on speaker.” I needed my hands free to touch up my makeup.

“Oh, Alex. How wonderful! I just wanted to let you know your Uncle James is here, and he asked me to call you.”

“What ‘s wrong?” 

“Alex? Alex, are you there?” Uncle James/Lord Hillen shouted loud enough to be heard over the music. Everyone shushed me.

“Sorry.” I turned off the speaker and put the phone to my ear. “Yes, Uncle James. I’m here. You don’t have to shout. Is everything all right?” I was concerned about my grandparents. They weren’t old by Elf standards; they were considered middle-aged even though my grandfather was thirty-five hundred years old, and my grandmother was about fifteen hundred years old, give or take a thousand years.

“Lord Ashur must speak to you immediately,” he said. “It’s about the Epsilon Account.”

I paused. “What Epsilon Account?” I’d never heard of it although I knew it was the fifth letter in the ancient Greek alphabet. But the Elves had never used Greek letters for anything. Still, I was relieved to hear it wasn’t about my grandparents. 

“We don’t know what it is,” he said.

“Okay, so why is this an emergency?”

“Because Lord Ashur said so.” 

“Oh.” Lord Ashur was the Elfin leader of the Council of Elders, and I should drop whatever I was doing and rush home, but I couldn’t right now. “I can meet you in Hyde Park by eleven tonight.” I had memorized the Eurostar train schedule from Paris, so I knew what time it got to London. Once I got there, I would have to transfer to a local train for Hyde Park. “Can you wait with Mrs. MacDougall?”

“Oh… my pleasure,” he said, as he ended the call. 

I knew he liked her, so I was sure he’d be happy to spend more time with her. I rushed off to make my next entrance and slipped the phone in my pocket without thinking. As I strutted down the runway, my mobile went off again. It was making too much noise to ignore, so I took it out to turn it off. It was Mrs. MacDougall again, so I swiped it and answered it as if it was part of the show. Uncle James/Lord Hillen came on the line, saying he forgot to tell me my grandparents were fine. 

“Thank you so much,” I said, as I hung up. But instead of putting it away, I continued talking as if I was in the middle of a business deal. “But you don’t understand. I want two million, not one.” I rolled my eyes at the audience. “No deal!” I touched the screen, shook my head, and waved my mobile in the air.

The audience laughed, and cameras flashed all over the place. So, I turned my back to the audience and took a selfie. The show’s narrator, Philippe, grimaced at me and waved me off the stage. I strolled by him and waved my mobile to thunderous applause.

It was never my intent to become a fashion model, but after I was exiled here, I needed to earn a living. Modeling didn’t require a special skill except to walk in high heels. At the time, I was staying with Vice Admiral Sir Malcolm Teller and his wife in London because I had no place else to live. Their daughter, Suzette, was a fashion designer and asked me to be her model because hers had quit unexpectedly. I did fine in my first show, but my heart wasn’t in it. I’d been trained as a soldier, so I applied to join the Royal Marines. When they rejected my application, I went back to work as a model. 

After several more dress changes, I ended the show wearing a spectacular wedding dress. My boss, Étienne, had specialized in them at one time in his career, and this dress was exceptional. It was made of embossed white silk with kimono-type sleeves, with a definite Japanese flair, but with an off-the-shoulder look. The train was at least twenty feet long, and the veil was to die for. I’d get married in that dress except I didn’t want to get married. Maybe one day. After all, that’s what fantasies are made of.

When the show ended, Philippe, the narrator, stormed backstage and chewed me out for taking a phone on the runway and violating the model’s code of silence. It wasn’t the first time he did this. The man hated me from the moment we met. He spoke so rapidly in French I couldn’t understand what he said except for those few words that crossed over to English, like ‘idiot’ and ‘mobile phone.’ I didn’t know why the French language was a such problem for me. I was fluent in four other languages—English, Scinthian (ancient Greek), Dwarf (Droogan), and Elf. Maybe it was a self-defense mechanism, so I wouldn’t understand all the nasty things Philippe said to me. 

His tirade lasted for ten minutes. By the time he was done, everyone else had left, and we were the only ones backstage. He stalked away and left me to find my way to the mandatory after-show party at our boss’s house.



 
About the Author

Joni Parker was born in Chicago, Illinois, but moved to Japan when she was 8 so her father could become a professional golfer. Once he achieved his dream, Joni and her family returned to the U.S. and moved to Phoenix, Arizona. After high school, Joni served her country for 22 years in the Navy and another 7 years in federal civil service. She retired in Tucson, Arizona, devoting her time to writing, reading, and watching the sunrise.

Author Links  

Website | Facebook | Tw






Sponsored By:



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The Spotlight Is On Catnip Plushie Balls And Q-Tips by M G Rorai @pumpupyourbook

Catnip, Plushie Balls, and Q-Tips

Virtual Book Tour

Media Kit

🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦

  About the Book:

 Title: Catnip, Plushie Balls, and Q-Tips

Author: M.G. Rorai

Publisher: Independent

Publication Date: September 30, 2023

Pages: 178

Genre: Poetry/Pets

Ever wonder why there are “mews” in “amewzing”?

This collection of cat poems will tickle your whiskers and your funny bone. They’re the purr-fect way to brighten your day and celebrate the furry friends in your life.

Prepare to laugh out loud as you read about cat adventures with magnets, candles, strawberry milkshakes, and plush balls—but don’t let me ruin the surprise, you’ll have to read to find out!

Get ready to laugh your tail off!

Buy Links:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple | Scribd | Smashwords

 Book Excerpt:

The magnets are so cute

that I must knock them off

but get yelled at for this,

so the new approach is soft.

I sit by the fridge

staring at those squares

and when Human isn’t looking

I lick with tongue hairs.

All was going good

until one was quite sticky

leaving a bad taste,

and I’m not so picky.

I bite at the air

to get rid of the taste

then knock down that magnet;

good riddance, post-haste.** 

About the Author

 M.G. Rorai enjoys hanging with her cats and annoying her husband. Her latest book is Catnip, Plushie Balls, and Q-Tips.

Author Links  

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Review – Grace and the Golden Rule by Negrita Smart @pumpupyourbook

 


Grace And The Golden Rule is a book that teaches children how to treat other people.

Title: Grace and the Golden Rule
Author: Negrita Smart
Publisher: C Black Expressions LLC
Publication Date: February 4, 2023
Pages: 34
Genre: Children’s Book (Ages 3 – 11)

goodreads add to

.

MY REVIEW

Grace is a character pulled from the author’s family and the values she learned as a child.

Grace and the Golden Rule by Negrita Smart is a wonderfully illustrated story with a simple message: Do unto others as you would like them to do unto you.

A new girl, Ruth, comes to Grace’s school and they become fast friends. She invited Ruth to her house to play in the snow. Grace loved the snow. Since Ruth and she had so much in common, she thought Ruth would too. BUT, Ruth wanted to go home. Grace couldn’t figure out what happened. Her father reminded her of the Golden Rule and she made a decision.

I loved the story and the vibrant, fun illustrations. I highly recommend Grace and the Golden rule by Negrita Smart for all young children, and it made me feel good and end with a smile on my face, so I feel we could all enjoy this gentle reminder to be kind.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Grace and the Golden Rule by Negrita Smart.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
5 Star

Grace loves the Winter season. It is her favorite of all seasons because she loves to play in the snow with her friends. Winter is also Grace’s favorite season because she can wear her favorite purple scarf. Grace wears it every day until she meets Ruth. After meeting Ruth as school, Grace feels differently about playing in the snow and wearing her favorite purple scarf. This is because Grace learns a valuable lesson about how to treat other people.

Purchase at Amazon: https://amzn.to/45F9beP




About the Author

Negrita Smart is a small-town girl from Dadeville, Alabama. She is a wife, sister, believer, and teacher at heart.

The first of her family to graduate from college, Negrita holds a Masters in Business Administration and the insurance designation of Chartered Property & Casualty Underwriters and holds insurance licenses in Property and Casualty and Life and Health. She credits and shares her accomplishments with her supportive family.     

Negrita loves spending time with her family and has happily taken on the official role of Event Planner bringing family members together through fun and love. 

In her professional life, Negrita utilizes her talent for sharing knowledge and information as a new-hire trainer creating user-friendly webinars, courses, tests, and gauge learning within business areas such as auto, property, and agriculture.    

As an author, Negrita is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators always looking to connect, share and grow with fellow writers.    

An active supporter of her local church ministry, Negrita is driven to share life lessons with children through story-telling and relatable characters.  

Follow her on Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/negritasmart/.








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Review & Spotlight – Tropical Scandal by David Myles Robinson @DMRobinsonWrite @pumpupyourbook

https://amzn.to/482xd4X

Title: Tropical Scandal

Author: David Myles Robinson

Publisher: Bluewater Press, LLC

Pages: 291

Genre: Legal Thriller/Suspense/Mystery

 MY REVIEW

I must confess, it was the tropical cover that made me pause and check out the book. Then, the blurb mentions that it is based ‘somewhat on bizarrely true events’, I had to read it.

I have not read any of the previous books in the series and I don’t feel like it impacted my enjoyment of Tropical Scandal, though I always recommend beginning at the beginning, if you can. It helps to keep from stumbling over references to earlier books.

The descriptive writing made it easy to visualize the intriguing characters. The storyline is in depth, convoluted, twisting and turning, keeping me reading, because there was no way this was going to be an easy mystery for me to solve. I don’t read a lot of legal thrillers, but David Myles Robinson led me through the investigation and court proceedings, step by step.

Greed runs rampant. Flawed characters abound. Some I cared for, others I think get their just desserts. All in all, I enjoyed my time in Hawaii and would love to visit again.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Tropical Scandal by David Myles Robinson.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
3 Stars

BOOK BLURB

When Pancho McMartin, Honolulu’s top criminal defense attorney, takes on the case of Dayton Kalama, a young drug dealer accused of murdering his grandmother (tutu), Pancho is faced with a daunting amount of evidence pointing squarely at Dayton. But as Pancho, together with his private investigator, Drew Tulafono, gradually pull back the layers of deceit, they begin to uncover hints at what is beginning to look like the biggest scandal ever to hit Hawaii’s legal community. This book is pure fiction, but is inspired by true, scandalous events which shook Honolulu’s legal community to its core.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/482xd4X

Book Excerpt

I was surprised when my current lover, Padma Dasari, asked me to meet with Isaac Goldblum, a legendary Hawaii trial attorney who, now in his eighties, was an alcoholic still representing clients. I had made known my intolerance for those attorneys who fell prey to addiction

yet refused help—all while still accepting clients. They were walking malpractice cases who risked everything they’d worked for in their own lives—not to mention the lives of their

clients—by living and working as functional drunks or addicts.

Being a trial attorney was stressful. Being a criminal defense trial attorney was particularly stressful. Aside from the relatively rare innocent defendant, our customer base was composed of criminals who, generally speaking, were not the warmest and fuzziest people to deal with day in and day out.

Whether they were guilty or innocent, their lives were in our hands—a situation only the most jaded and burned-out counsel didn’t find stressful.

My surprise didn’t arise from the fact that Padma knew Goldblum. She was the former medical examiner for the city and county of Honolulu, and just as I had cross-examined her many times in her capacity as coroner, so had Goldblum. My surprise arose from the fact that Padma knew Goldblum had been one of my early heroes. He was most famous for having won an acquittal for two Hawaiian teenagers who had been charged with the murder of a prominent haole (Caucasian) businessman. The public outcry against the Hawaiian kids had been reminiscent of the uproar in the Deep South when young black men were charged with the rape of white women. It was scary. Goldblum was vilified for taking the case.

As he later said in an interview for the Honolulu Advertiser, he knew that anything short of proving who the real killer was would fall on deaf ears. His cross-examination of the

businessman’s administrative assistant, who’d been having an affair with the dead man’s wife and who ultimately confessed to the murder, was nothing short of brilliant.

I had shared my early hero worship of Goldblum with Padma, but I had also made it clear that I now harbored a healthy dose of contempt for the man, who seemed intent on destroying his own legacy. At the time, Padma had not tried to defend Goldblum.

We were enjoying a quiet Saturday afternoon at Padma’s Kahala Beach condo when she broached the subject of my meeting with Goldblum. “He lives here, in the next building,”

she said. “He’s invited us to stop by for a cocktail at about four.”

I stared out from her oceanfront lanai at the tranquil ocean.

The palm fronds on the coconut trees fronting the beach barely twitched. One lone puff of a cumulous cloud hovered in the bright blue sky.

“Why?” I asked. “Why would I want to go have a drink with a drunk who should have put himself on inactive status years ago?”

Padma stared back at me with her piercing dark eyes. I half expected her to admonish me for being too judgmental—a trait I seemed to have developed in recent years. “Isaac asked to

meet with you. We know each other from court, and he knows I live in this building, and he knows we’re in a relationship. I think he came to me rather than you because he knows—or at

least suspects—that you aren’t much of an admirer of his.”

Padma had been born in India and had done volunteer work as a doctor in Bangladesh, but she had lived and worked in the United States for most of her adult life. Nonetheless, she

still retained the remnants of an accent, which was melodic and soothing. No doubt she was a calming influence on many people grieving the loss of a loved one. She had been instrumental in

helping my mother in New Mexico get through the early stages of the loss of my father. Just the tone of her voice seemed to take the wind out of my judgmental sails.

“Okay, but do you know why he wants to meet?”

She gave a small shake of her head. “Something about a case. That’s all I know.” She paused for a beat. “Look, I know he’s a drunk and you hate the fact that he’s still going to court, but you have to admit: drunk or sober, the man knows the law and probably still has pretty good instincts. I doubt he would ask to meet with you if he didn’t think it was important.”

I resisted the temptation to make a snide remark and instead looked at my watch. It was three-thirty in the afternoon. “Why’d you wait until now to tell me about this?”

Padma’s beautiful brown face broke into a mischievous grin. “So you wouldn’t have time to obsess about it.”

I laughed. “Jesus, Padma. We’re not even married and you play me like a fiddle.”

“I love the fiddle,” was her only retort.

About the Author

David Myles Robinson has always had a passion for writing. During the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, while in college, Robinson worked as a free-lance writer for several magazines and was a staff writer for a weekly minority newspaper in Pasadena, California. Upon graduating from San Francisco State University, he attended the University of San Francisco School of Law. It was there that he met his wife, Marcia Waldorf. In 1975 the two moved to Honolulu, Hawaii and began practicing law. Robinson became a trial lawyer and Waldorf eventually became a Circuit Court judge.

Upon retiring in 2010, Robinson completed his first novel, Unplayable Lie. He has since published eight more novels.

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Giveaway – Precious Burdens by Avery Sterling @PumpUpYourBook @AverySterling17

Title: Precious Burdens

Author: Avery Sterling

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Pages: 324

Genre: Historical Romance

BOOK BLURB

Sarafina di Ramonicci sets sail for America as the promised bride in an arranged political marriage.
Taken prisoner at sea, she clashes with her captor and demands freedom, only to discover he is planning her future husband’s demise, with her as a pawn in their deadly feud. The challenge of escape tests her loyalty to family, human decency, and love.

Captain Nye Tarquin is a dangerous man. Left to die on the streets of New Orleans, he swears retribution on the man responsible. When he makes Sarafina part of his plan, he isn’t prepared for the fiery vixen aboard his ship, nor his desire to claim her as his own. When passion overtakes honor, he’s torn between his heart and his need for justice.

EXCERPT

A grin formed on his lips. “She belongs to me now,” he said, his voice was as cool as his expression. “And when Cornell comes for her, I’ll be waiting to return the favor… only I’ll succeed, where he did not.”

   Sarafina’s fingers curled around her goblet. “What makes you think he’ll come for her?”

   “He has several reasons to take the bait. Cornell will demand satisfaction for his humiliation.”

   “His humiliation?” She sat up straighter. “What about hers? Do you understand what people will think when they find out she was held hostage here? If her intended is murdered and she’s left stranded, this will leave her utterly alone. What will become of her, then?”

   “She’ll marry someone better than the likes of Cornell, I hope,” he replied dryly.

   She slammed her goblet down and flew to her feet. “And who would want her?”

   He remained seated. “I’m doing her a great service,” he said calmly, leaning on the arm of his chair. “You have no idea the kind of life she would’ve been subjected to.”

   “So, you’re her savior now?”

   The captain pushed off his chair, and straightened to his full height. She kept her glare locked with his, but keeping it steady was becoming as difficult as her breathing. “Maybe,” he said.

   “That’s an absurd notion,” she replied.

   “Is it?” he asked. He stepped towards her, and she stepped back in unison, until the back of her legs hit the chair.

 ABOUT AVERY STERLING

Avery Sterling’s love for the romance genre began in her teen years when she picked up her first novel. She was captivated by the sweeping scale of emotions brought about by the words. The experience catapulted her towards learning the art of wielding a breathtaking adventure, with a love that felt authentic. Wanting to inspire people with her own thoughts and words, she finished her first novel at sixteen. It was a step towards understanding the essence of what she wished to create.

Most of her youth was spent traveling, searching out the romance and beauty in her everchanging world. From the waves that crashed against the rocky shores of Downeast, Maine, to the warm breezes of the Caribbean, she discovered that love was universal, apparent in its grandest and simplest of forms. Her goal is to write novels an audience can relate to, one that conveys the truth and nature of love… with all that steamy romance.

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Blog Tour – Becoming Flawsome by Kristina Mand Lakhiani @pumpupyourbook

 

Being described as “10 years worth of therapy in one book,” Becoming Flawesome is a celebration of our whole selves, warts and all, and the glory that is to be found in living in our truth…

Title: Becoming Flawesome
Author: Kristina Mand-Lakhiani
Publisher: Hay House Publishing
Pages: 280
Genre: Nonfiction

Perfection. We all dream of living by it, feeling it, being it…


And it is in the name of perfection that we demonise our flaws, make ourselves ‘less-than,’ and render ourselves vulnerable to the shame of not being good enough.

We live in a society that subliminally encourages us to wear metaphorical masks, slay our inner sadness, and ignore our imperfections, or as Kristina refers to them, her ‘dragons.’ Even within the world of personal development and spirituality, toxic perfectionism lurks in the shadows.

In Kristina’s upcoming book Becoming Flawesome #BecomingFlawesome, she reflects on her own story, her battle against perfectionism, and what it took for her to return to what she now deems to be her most authentic self. Being described as “10 years worth of therapy in one book,Becoming Flawsome is a celebration of our whole selves, warts and all, and the glory that is to be found in living in our truth.

Every chapter is closed with reflection points and exercises to encourage the readers to dive deep into the essence of who they truly are, what their values are, and how to navigate an oftentimes overwhelming world.

In this book, Kristina breaks the mould as she takes the reader on a journey through:

  • The dark, controversial side of ‘personal growth,’ and the insecurities that thrive on it

  • Self-care vs self-love, and why you need both

  • What authenticity actually is, beyond the buzz

  • The ‘Hermione Syndrome,’ and how to diagnose if you’re secretly suffering from it

  • How to create aligned lifestyle habits that stick

  • Why the more you judge others, the more you judge yourself

  • Societal masks, and how to remove them from your psyche 

  • Imposter syndrome in the world of high-flyers 

  • Emotional literacy: how to cope with strong, painful emotions healthily 


Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/mwtzj3jx 


Mind Valley Books: https://www.mindvalley.com/books/flawesome 

Book Excerpt  


The Key to Living an Imperfectly Authentic Life

Introduction

Let’s Begin

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a good book has to start with a proper introduction.

And by “proper” I mean that it has to prime the reader for the journey, raise excitement and set expectations, explain the process, and make reading the book an experience both profitable and smooth. After all, we are about to spend some time together on this journey.

Therefore, I was not surprised when on the first meeting with my publisher I was asked if I would consider writing a proper introduction to my book. You see—the original manuscript started with a story of me pondering my future book while standing in the shower, warm water running down my back, and my finger absentmindedly drawing random patterns on the fogged-up glass.

I started this book during the long years of successive COVID confinements, and I was planning to self-publish it because I wanted the freedom to make decisions about the book—how to write, what to write, what stories to include, what kind of experience to offer to my reader. So, naturally, it wasn’t following any universally acknowledged truths or conventions.

Yet, by the time I had to present my book-baby to the world, I felt that I wanted to give it the best possible future, and I had to face the big decision between my heart and my brain: Will it be self-published (heart), or will I work with a traditional publisher (brain)? Going the traditional way meant facing more choices between my quirky and obstinate self-expression and conventional ways of doing things.

This book is about finding your way back to yourself, about understanding who you really are, accepting your dents and scratches, your quirky uniqueness and even your flaws. It is about thriving in being unapologetically you, most flawesomely.

This book has been through the hands of several editors ever since I put the last stop on its original manuscript. This journey has been both emotional and transformative for me. I had to face my biggest dragon by far—my obstinate need for pure self-expression—over and over again.

When do you follow convention, and when do you stick to your own principles and values?

There is no simple answer to this question, except: you have to learn to balance.

If you follow all the rules that your peers expect you to follow, you bet all there is on a slim chance of the grand prize, but you do it at the price of your own unique self-expression. At times, I felt like I had to “sell my soul to the devil” for a chance at success.

But if you obstinately stick to your own unique quirks and principles, you might end up being unheard and misunderstood so universally that there is no point in writing a book. For it is the readers who make a writer. Without the readers, a book is just a private diary.

Reader, will you judge me if I tell you that this book is a delicate balance between convention and my own uniqueness? Of course, I want you to succeed. But I cannot give you the proper introduction to my book because every book is a journey. This book has been my journey, and

now it is yours. I walked my path to my true self, to understanding what makes me truly me . . .

and what of that unique quirkiness is simply noise. You see, your flaws and your dragons are there for a reason—they make you who you are, but they also hold the key to your biggest value, to your mightiest strengths, if you choose to look your dragons in the eye.

Now I am hoping that you will take this journey with me to your unique destination—to finding the path back to you. I will be your companion on this journey, but it is yours to take.

So why wouldn’t I tell you what’s ahead? Imagine if Gandalf told Bilbo Baggins that on his journey, he would encounter trolls, go through a perilous enchanted forest, and face a dragon in a far-away mountain. Wouldn’t that be a bit of a spoiler?

I want you to take this journey back to you without any spoilers, with an open heart, and trust that the destination is going to be worth your effort. Because becoming flawesome is the best gift you can give to yourself.

So, if you are ready, let’s begin!



More…



 

About the Author

Kristina Mand-Lakhiani is an international speaker, entrepreneur, artist, philanthropist, and mother of 2 kids. As a co-founder of Mindvalley, a leading publisher in the personal growth industry, Kristina dedicated the last 20 years of her career from teachers like Michael Beckwith, Bob Proctor, Lisa Nichols, and many more. 

She started her career in a government office in her native Estonia and, by her mid-20s, achieved a level of success mostly known to male politicians at the end of their careers. It was shortly after that Kristina and her then-husband Vishen founded Mindvalley. From a small meditation business operating out of the couple’s apartment in New York, the company quickly grew into a global educational organization offering top training for peak human performance to hundreds of thousands of students all around the world. 

Kristina believes life is too important to be taken seriously and makes sure to bring fun into every one of her roles: as a teacher, mother, entrepreneur, philanthropist, and world traveller. Kristina helps her students to virtually hack happiness by taking them through her unique framework – “Hacking happiness” – a unique framework of balancing your life, taking in every moment, and paying close attention to the small daily choices.  

Kristina is also the author of three transformational quests – “7 Days To Happiness“, “Live By Your Own Rules.” and “The Art of Being Flawesome”. Kristina talks about personal transformation, authenticity, understanding and accepting oneself, and a path to happiness.

In July 2023, with the help of Hay House Publishing, Kristina releases her very first book – “Becoming Flawesome” #BecomingFlawesome. In her book, Kristina shares her own journey from being on top of a personal growth empire like Mindvalley to stepping aside, conscious uncoupling from her husband, and walking her path towards being more honest with herself. 

Website: https://kristinamand.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kristinamand

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kristina-mand-lakhiani-73168414/


 

 
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