New Release! - Let's Move On by Deborah Nam Krane @DNKboston

BOOK FOUR

Let's Move On

By Deborah Nam-Krane

Zainab has spent years keeping Emily from going over the edge, giving Miranda a shoulder to cry on and nursing Jessie back to health. They'll be the first to agree that she deserves whatever makes her happy, especially after the drama Richard put her through. But did she have to choose the guy who threw everyone's lives into the shredder?

Richard knows he screwed up and he'd do anything to get Zainab back, but first he needs to make sure his company—and his loyal employees—don't go under. (Who knew kicking your primary investor to the curb would have consequences?) Good thing his family has such deep pockets; too bad he doesn't want to take a cent from them. Why should Zainab take him back if he can't get out of his own way?

Maybe Zainab can eat her cake and have it too—that is, until she's given an ultimatum. The choice isn't Lover A or B; it's protecting her friends or letting them fend for themselves. With that hanging over her head, what's it going to take to make sure she and everyone else can finally move on?

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EXCERPT

Zainab was laughing a few hours later as she stretched out in bed. "You continue to be full of surprises."

Robert rested his head on the pillow and took some deep breaths. "Come on, that wasn’t really a surprise, was it?"

"I don’t usually get that dressed up just to go to bed." She flipped over and smiled. "Or is that sort of a Catch-22? Would we not have ended up in bed if I hadn’t been so dressed up?"

Robert sighed. "I think you’re just trying to get me to admit that I had this planned."

"I know you’re intrusive, I don’t think you’re manipulative."

"What about your friends?"

"No, they’re not manipulative either, although at least one of them is intrusive at any given point—"

"I meant, what do they think of me?"

"You know exactly what they think of you, and I’d say it shouldn’t be something that should concern you."

"It doesn’t, except that I don’t like the idea of you leaving and then going to a house full of people who can’t stop telling you how wrong I am for you."

"First of all," she said, playing with his chin, "you’re getting really sloppy. Jessie isn’t living with me—"

"But she’s around enough—and no, I have not been driving by your house."

"Second of all, they have no idea."

"Really?" Robert said, smiling as he looked her over. "Because Emily is pretty sharp. Annoying, but sharp. Miranda could maybe use a little more time at school—"

"Miranda isn’t stupid."

"She just has lousy taste."

"Don’t we all?"

"If you think that, then why are you here?"

"Why shouldn’t I be, Robert?"

He smiled. "Because of Jessie. Because of everyone else. Because of Richard. Because to the untrained eye it might look like I broke you up on purpose—"

"I know that’s not what happened."

"So am I forgiven?"

"It’s not an issue."

"Why don’t you care?"

"What do you want? You want me to be really mad so you can have an excuse to feel bad? Do you think you should feel bad?"

"Let’s just say I don’t usually conduct my investigations that way."

Zainab raised her eyebrow. "I know you were here with Jessie."

"And that doesn’t bother you?"

"How bothered would you like me to be?"

"I don’t want you to be bothered, but I want you to care."

"Why? Do you care about Richard?"

"No, but I do think he can’t be nearly as smart as he thinks he is to let you go."

"He didn’t let me do anything—I left on my own. I was with him by choice."

He kissed her. "And now you’re with me. By choice."

"Now you’re getting the hang of it."

"So why did you choose me?"

"Because I like you, Robert. But why do we need to look at it so closely?"

He rolled on top of her. "True, when there are so many better things we could do with our time."

BOOK ONE

The Smartest Girl in the Room

Nineteen year old Emily wants her college diploma fast, and she's going to get it. But when the perfect night with perfect Mitch leads her to a broken heart, Emily is blind to her vulnerability. When the person she cares about the most is hurt as a result, Emily's ambition gives way to more than a little ruthlessness. She's going to use her smarts to take care of herself and protect the people she loves, and everyone else had better stay out of her way. But shouldn't the smartest girl everyone knows realize that the ones she'd cross the line for would do the same for her?

GOODREADS | AMAZON | BARNES AND NOBLE | SMASHWORDS | KOBO

BOOK TWO

The Family You Choose

Miranda Harel has been in love with her guardian Alex Sheldon since she was five years old, and Michael Abbot has despised them both for just as long. When Miranda finds out why she wants both men out of her life for good and questions everything she believed about where and who she came from. Finding out the truth will break her heart. Without family or true love, will her friends be enough to bring her back?

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BOOK TWO AND A HALF

An Engagement: A New Pioneers Short Story

Annabelle Hendrickson always knew Alex Sheldon couldn't be trusted, but even she couldn't have guessed how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted.

No one was as decent as her brother Jim, but Stephen Abbot had a kind soul behind his mischief. She could accept his reprobate father- he'd be dead soon anyway- but she would never accept his longtime friendship with Alex, her father Gerald's ambitious employee. Annabelle knew it was just a matter of time before he stepped on someone she cared about.

What a pity she didn't realize who that person would be—and who was going to give him the opportunity.

What happened to Michael Abbot and Richard Hendrickson's parents in 1980 is going to affect everyone three decades later.

ONLY 99 CENTS!

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BOOK THREE

The China Doll

Hypocrisy, half truths and lies...

Sick of being treated like she's going to break, Jessie Bartolome is back to her old ways and calling everyone on their hypocrisy. Sheesh! One little breakdown and even easygoing Martin Shepard thinks she's too fragile to handle their age difference. Good thing her older and equally yummy teaching assistant Robert Lester thinks otherwise…right?

After spending so long cleaning up after everyone else, Jessie's cousin Richard has never had the time to start a life of his own. However had he managed to find his girlfriend Zainab? So what is Richard going to do now that everyone else has grown up? Marry Zainab and start a family? Things have never been that easy for a Hendrickson…just ask his cousin Michael.

Richard's mother, Lucy, is one of the most powerful women in Boston... so when is she going to put a stop to the blackmail ruthless Alex Sheldon has been holding over her for years? And if Richard knows more than he's letting on, why hasn't he gone after Alex himself? The question is, how much does he- or anyone else- really know?

Welcome to the Bartolome/Hendrickson family.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Deborah Nam-Krane is a writer living in Boston proper who has been storytelling since she was a little girl and writing those stories down since she was eight. Any given day will find her reading, writing, reviewing, editing and, just for fun, homeschooling her children.

Let's Move On is the fourth installment of the New Pioneers series, the sequel to The Smartest Girl in the Room (March 2013), The Family You Choose (September 2013), An Engagement: A New Pioneers Short Story (March 2014) and The China Doll (March 2014). Deborah is currently editing Book Five, The Golden Boy Returns. That book will be set in the world of Boston and Massachusetts politics, and her job will be to tone down the true stories she’s heard so they seem believable. And because she just can't stay away from her characters, she's already started working on the To Be Titled Book Six, a Romantic Suspense.

WRITTEN BY DEB (BLOG) | NEWSLETTER | FACEBOOK | GOODREADS | TWITTER

GIVEAWAY

$10 Amazon gift card

5 copies of both The Smartest Girl in the Room and The Family You Choose

a Rafflecopter giveaway

@GoddessFish Book Tour - Heart on a String by Susan Soares (@susansoares1)

Cover for Heart on a String by Susan Soares

When ALS Ice Bucket fever hit, I had the opportunity to ask today's featured guest, Susan Soares, what she or her characters would do for charity?

What would I do to support a charity?  Well I've walked in the American Cancer Society Making Strides against Breast Cancer Walk. I've also done the relay for life event also through the American Cancer Society. 

In Heart on a String the main character, Marrissa's mother passes away from breast cancer. Learning how to finally face up with the fact that she can't live in the shadow of her mother's death is a vital part of the character’s growth. In the beginning of the story she hides the fact that her mom has passed away. She for sure never talks about the cancer that stole her from her life. It's shameful to her to not have a mother. She can't bear to go to her mother's grave for the pain it causes her. She finds herself falling in love with a guy who has lost his younger brother, only he has a much healthier way of dealing with his grief.  You’ll have to read the story to find out how she grows, and what she does to honor her mother’s memory.

The Deets...

The only thing harder than lying about your life? Facing it.

Marissa tells lies.

To herself, about the fact that her brother abandoned her.

To her grandmother, when she says “everything’s fine.”

To the world when she pretends her mother is at home or working late. When she doesn’t tell them her mother is dead.

She doesn’t even question the wisdom of living in a world built on lies anymore—until she meets Brandon. Unlike Marissa, Brandon faces his grief head-on. As their relationship sweetens, Marissa realizes the value of letting someone in and not letting her grief destroy her. But when her past filled with denial catches up with her, Marissa is forced to tell Brandon her darkest secrets, or risk losing him.

The only thing harder than lying about her life? Facing it.

A Sneak Peek inside...

I held my breath as I ran past the cemetery. Stupid, I know. Regardless, it’s one of those idiotic things that stick with you from your childhood. Like fragments of your being that imprint themselves on your chemical makeup. It was my older brother, Marc, who had told me that once when we were in the backseat of Mom’s old hatchback and were driving past the Sacred Path Cemetery.

Marc poked me in my side. “Quick, hold your breath,” he said before taking in a puff of air and holding it in.

“What? Why?” I looked around from side to side.

He didn’t answer me. Instead he just kept motioning with his hands, pointing out the window, putting his hands around his neck like he was choking or something. Finally, when we turned left onto Harper Street he let out a big exhale.

“Oh man, now you’re toast.” He pointed at me and laughed. That maniacal laugh only older brothers know how to do. I was seven at the time, and Marc was ten. “You probably have a ghost inside you now.” He grinned like a devious villain.

“A ghost?” I said.

“You didn’t hold your breath while we drove past the cemetery. Again I state — you’re toast.” He began drumming on his lap with his hands.

I didn’t comprehend what he was telling me, but I knew I didn’t like it. Tears started forming in my eyes, and I knew I had to rely on my failsafe. “Mooommm,” I cried out, and immediately I felt Marc’s sweaty hand over my mouth.

“Yes, Marissa?” Mom’s sweet voice carried from the front of the car to the backseat.

“She’s fine, Mom. I got it.” Marc’s tone was of the dutiful son. He unclamped his hand from my face. “Listen,” he began, talking kind of slow. “You’ve got to remember this. I’m going to give you a life lesson here. Are you ready?”

His green eyes were sparkling, and I nodded my head in agreement.

“Okay.” He crouched down a bit so he was eye-level with me. “You must always, and I mean always, hold your breath when you drive past a cemetery. And if you’re walking past one, you must run — run and hold your breath until you’re clear. Otherwise, the spirits of the undead could invade your body. And you don’t want that to happen. Do you?” I almost couldn’t tell if the last part was a question or a statement.

“But I didn’t hold my breath back there, and all the times before. What if one’s in me right now?” I began pawing at my body.

Marc threw his head back and laughed. “Nah, you’re fine. Just be careful. Now that you know you have to do it, always do it. Understand?”

Again I shook my head. Marc gave me a thumbs-up, and I begged Mom to take Chester Street instead of Maple because I knew there was a big cemetery on Maple. Luckily she agreed.

So now, here I was ten years later, holding my breath as I ran past Sacred Path Cemetery. While I ran, my new sneakers — the ones I had to work double shifts on Saturdays for three weeks to get — started rubbing the back of my left heel, and I knew I’d have a blister the size of a quarter later on. It’s hard to keep your pace when you’re holding your breath. Luckily Sacred Path Cemetery isn’t that big. Just big enough. It’s just big enough. That’s what my grandmother said anyway. I was almost halfway through when I heard the clicking of the tips of my shoelace on the ground. My thoughts concentrated on what those tip things were called, anything to get my mind off the cemetery. Aglets, I remembered! My aglets were hitting the pavement, and I knew if I didn’t stop and retie that lace, then I would land flat on my face. Grace has never been a character trait of mine. My mother, yes, but not me. Marissa No-Grace McDonald should have been my legal name. How my mother came up with Scranton for my middle name I’ll never know.

The last thing I wanted to happen was to fall face first in front of the cemetery. Complete body invasion for sure then. I couldn’t hold my breath that long. So I did what I had to do. I stopped, turned my face the opposite direction of the cemetery, and took one big breath in and held it. Next, I bent down and furiously retied that lace. Why is it that whenever you try doing something in a rush it never comes out right? Somehow I tied my finger into the knot. Then, I couldn’t get the loops to line up right. Just as I was finally conquering the over-under shoelace tying technique that Marc had taught me when I was five, I heard muffled sounds coming from inside the cemetery. I searched for the source of the sounds. As I looked near the line of big oak trees that lined the right-hand side of the cemetery, I saw the profiles of a family. What I assumed was a family, anyway. There was a woman, about my mom’s age, a guy about my age, and a younger boy, maybe six or seven. The little boy was holding a metallic balloon, which was red and in the shape of a heart. Bright sun caught the corner of it, creating a glare that momentarily impaired my vision. When my eyes refocused, I was suddenly aware of my body and extremely aware of the fact that I was watching this family’s private moment, in the cemetery, in this cemetery. My heart beat frantically, and I became aware that my forehead was covered in perspiration. I stood up, held my breath again, and ran the next half a block without stopping, my aglets clicking against the pavement all the way.

When I crossed over onto Brenton Street, I finally slowed down. I felt like I could breathe again. My pace was back to a more conservative speed, and after one more break to retie that shoelace-triple-knot, I was able to refocus. The spring air felt good on my skin. As the sun poured down on me, my face embraced its warmth. Lilacs were in full bloom everywhere, and I made a special detour down Hazel Street to run past the six lilac bushes Mr. Brockwell planted a few years ago. He said it was just because he wanted to add some color to his front yard, but I knew better. I knew they were for my mom.

Turning down Hazel Street, I inhaled the heavy floral scent of the freshly-bloomed lilac bushes, and I could picture my mom smiling. As I ran past the last bush, the little blue house finally came into view. I saw Mr. Brockwell picking up his newspaper from his front step. In that moment I wished I had magical powers to turn myself invisible.

“Marissa? Hey Marissa!” he shouted while making his way over to the fence.

Oh great. “Oh, hey, Mr. Brockwell.” I slowed down and began jogging in place, hoping the gesture would let him know I couldn’t stay to chat.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve run this route, hasn’t it?” He cinched his blue terrycloth robe a little tighter.

Trying to remain active, I kept jogging in place. “Yeah, I guess. I wanted to run past the lilacs.” I wasn’t sure if it was the sun or my nerves, but I felt like my body was going into heat shock or something.

Mr. Brockwell stared at me, and then I saw his eyes get glassy. He began to speak but then ran his hand over his mouth like he was muffling down what he wanted to say. His hands fumbled with his paper, and he cleared his throat.

 “It’s good to see—” he paused; it was like the words were getting caught in his throat like tuna inside a fisherman’s net.

I realized I was standing still. My legs began to spasm. He caught my eye one more time, but just for a moment before he had to look away. I knew why. It was the reason I never ran past his house anymore. The reason why we couldn’t have a conversation anymore. Everyone used to tell me I was so lucky to look so much like my mom. She was gorgeous. High cheekbones, perfect heart-shaped mouth, sparkling blue eyes that sat perfectly on her oval face. Besides her hair being a stunning ash blond and mine being mouse brown, we did look quite similar. Except that while her features seemed to make her look like Grace Kelly, mine seemed to make me look like, well, not Grace Kelly.

But it was moments like this — Mr. Brockwell unable to look at me for more than a minute without having to look away — that I wished I looked less like her. I felt like my face was betraying him. Like my cheekbones and lips were baiting him with memories of him and my mom together. Although now, each memory was served with a side of sorrow instead of a side of joy.

I’ll never forget when I saw him two days after the funeral. We bumped into each other at Have Another Cup Coffee Shop on Main Street. First he hugged me and asked how I was doing; then he had to look away, and he told me why.

“It hurts to look at you, Marissa. You look so much like her.” I knew how much he loved my mom, and Marc and I enjoyed having him around, but after that moment I made sure to keep my distance. So he went from being Hank to back to being Mr. Brockwell.

Now, I stood there — uncomfortable from sweat that covered me head to toe — wondering how much longer I needed to stand there while he avoided my face. “So, I gotta go or my pace is gonna be all messed up.”

Hank, I mean, Mr. Brockwell took one final look at me. “Sure, sure.” He started to walk backward then stopped. “Marissa, just so you know. Any time you want to see the lilacs you can.”

The lump in my throat held back any words I could have gotten out, so I just waved and made a beeline for the next street so I could start my way back home. Seeing Mr. Brockwell had put me into a fog. My brain wasn’t able to concentrate on my pace or on my footing, and I began to get a shin splint pain on my left-hand side. Unfortunately, this was the same side as the blister. My run was only six miles, but my body was starting to feel like I was at mile thirteen. I couldn’t relax my breathing, and the back of my throat felt like it was on fire every time I inhaled. In my fog, I didn’t realize I forgot to cross Parker Street, and now the only way to get back was to take Fletcher Street again. And run past Sacred Path Cemetery, again. Now, I ran past that cemetery every day on my jog, but only once. Once was all I needed to let me get it out of my system. And it’s not like my mom’s grave is right where I run past. She’s way on the other side, the Cranville Street side. I never run that side. But now, in all the confusion, I have to go past it again. My hand scratched an itch at the back of my neck as the street sign came into view. Like always, I stopped for a moment, took a few deep breaths in and out, then grabbed one big breath of air and held it as I started my way past the cemetery.

My focus was way up ahead to the stop sign at the other end. I kept my eyes on that sign and kept my feet stepping under me, quick and steady. I wasn’t even halfway across when I caught sight of some sort of string frantically whipping in the wind, and I was running straight toward it. My gaze moved to follow the line of the string, trying to see what it was attached to, and that’s when I saw it, caught in the big tree right by the fence. The red, heart-shaped metallic balloon, and my heart hit the ground.

Who is Susan Soares?

Susan Soares grew up in a small town in Massachusetts, always dreaming of one day being an author. After numerous short stories, poems and plays, those dreams finally became a reality when her first book, My Zombie Ex-Boyfriends was published. (Featherweight Press, 2013) Her second book Heart on a String was just released in June 2014 by Astraea Press.

Susan received her MA in Creative Writing and English from Southern New Hampshire University, and will be pursuing teaching soon. When she isn't writing Susan spends her time reading, experimenting with photography, planning her next Disney World vacation and chasing after her kids.

Susan loves to read YA fiction. Maybe it's because her inner sixteen-year-old still wants to be prom queen.

Links:

@susansoares1 | YouTube | Website | Blog | Goodreads | Wattpad

The GiveAway 

Susan will be awarding a Life is all Good LOVE Tote to a randomly drawn winner (http://www.zappos.com/life-is-good-all-good-tote-soft-purple), a multi-heart turquoise charm bracelet (http://www.zappos.com/m-f-western-multi-heart-charm-turquoise-bracelet-silver) to another randomly drawn winner, a signed copy of Heart on a String to one more randomly drawn winner and finally, a signed bookmark of Heart on a String to three randomly drawn winners. All prizes will be awarded via rafflecopter during the tour.

Remember, for more chances to win follow the tour!

September 15: Rogue's Angels
September 15: It's Raining Books
September 16: Beyond My Writing Space
September 17: Angela Myron
September 17: Underneath the Covers
September 18: Welcome to My World of Dreams
September 18: Long and Short Reviews
September 19: 3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, and Sissy, Too!
September 19: Books in the Hall - review

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Erin

Posts You May Have Missed

Breaking His Rules by Alison Packard

Breaking His Rules 

by Alison Packard

 The Deets....

Losing fifty pounds is an incredible achievement. But for Melissa Atherton, progress doesn’t come with praise—a scathing comment from an evil cousin at a bridal shower threatens to crush her new self-esteem. Who will she bring to the upcoming wedding? Showing up without a date would be humiliating. It just isn’t an option.

Personal trainer Jake Sawyer was attracted to Melissa before she lost weight, but her progress has him floored. When she admits she plans to hire a male escort—and why—his heart all but breaks. Melissa’s come too far to be knocked down, especially by her own family. He’ll go as her date…and figure out a way to keep his hands to himself.

But when a steamy hotel room encounter takes them both by surprise, Jake balks. He’s sworn never to date one of his clients, not again. And Melissa can’t bear to be just friends with the man who treated her so tenderly, even if it was only for a weekend. Jake’s helped her see she’s strong enough to stand up for herself, but will she find the strength to pursue the only man who’s ever seen the real her? 

A Sneak Peak Inside

“Jake. There’s something I have to tell you.” Melissa pointed a pale pink-tipped finger at him. “It’s important.” She paused to stare deeply into his eyes and when her tongue stroked her lips with a soft sensual lick, Jake had to fight the urge to lower his head and do what he’d wanted to do all night. Taste that tempting mouth of hers.

“You gotta fight for your right to party.” Her impish smile and the sound of the elevator doors opening snapped him out of the sexual undertow that had almost pulled him under and he guided her out of the elevator and onto the carpeted hallway of the second floor of the hotel. “I love that song,” she added, oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

“Yeah. I could tell by the way you were belting it out in the truck.” Jake pulled the room key card from the back pocket of his jeans as they reached their room.

“Thanks for letting me pick the radio station.”

He let go of her to slide the card into the card reader and open the door. “You’re welcome.”

“Whoa, Nellie.” Melissa clutched at his arm as she swayed to the side. “Sorry. It’s the shoes,” she said as she steadied herself.

“I think it’s the tequila shots.”

“No. It’s the shoes,” she said emphatically as she let go of him and moved into the room. “I don’t normally wear heels this high.”

Jake grinned and shook his head as he closed the door and tossed his keys and the card on the dresser. Melissa’s tolerance to alcohol was much like that of his brother, J.T., who after a couple of beers was pretty much toasted. Odd for a guy J.T.’s size, but true nonetheless.

“And you normally drink two beers and four shots of tequila?”

“It was only three shots.” A cute frown furrowed her brow. “I think.” She flung her purse on the bed and put her hands on her hips as she turned to face him. Her eyes raked boldly over his body. “You know what? I bet I could teach you to dance.”

“I know how to dance. I’m just not good at it.”

“That’s because you don’t practice.” She snapped her fingers and did a little shimmy. Jake’s breath jammed in his throat at the sight of her full breasts bouncing under her form-fitting top. “You can’t improve if you don’t shake what your mama gave you.”

Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, Alison now lives in Southern Nevada where she’s still getting used to the blistering summers and the slot machines in every grocery store.

When not working at the day job that pays the bills, keeps a roof over her head, and supports her book and chocolate habits, Alison spends most of her free time writing. But when she takes a break, she enjoys reading, watching movies, and spending time with her family and friends.

Website: http://alisonpackard.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alison-Packard-Author/368976796492227?ref=hl

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Alleyfics

The Giveaway

Alison will be awarding a $25 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Use the rafflecopter form below to enter and remember to follow the tour for more chances to enter. 

September 8: Christine Young author
September 9: Susana's Morning Room
September 10: Booklover Sue
September 11: Rachel Brimble Romance
September 11: BookSkater
September 12: A Writer's Life
September 12: Beyond My Writing Space
September 15: TBQ's Book Palace
September 16: Room With Books
September 17: Books and Other Spells
September 18: Lisa Haselton's Reviews and Interviews
September 18: Harlie's Books
September 19: The Divas of Desire
September 22: The Crafty Cauldron
September 23: Musings and Ramblings
September 24: Books to Light Your Fire
September 25: Emma Weylin
September 26: Bunny's Review
September 29: Queen of the Night Reviews
September 30: Crazy Four Books
October 1: Deal Sharing Aunt
October 1: Books N Pearls
October 2: Katherine Givens
October 3: The blog of C.R. Moss

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  Erin

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