How to Have an Amicable Divorce by Lindsay Harper

 

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How to Have an Amicable Divorce

Have you ever got yourself in so deep you feel like running away and starting a new life?

That’s exactly what wife and artist, Denizon Cartwright felt like doing. After deciding that she couldn’t put up with her unfaithful husband any longer, she leaves him for smooth-talking artist and professor, Damien   Johnson – but she soon learns she’s swapped one liar for another and beats a hasty retreat … only to become entangled with Jay, the ex-lover of her best friend, Robyn.

Could her life get any more complicated?

Yes! A surprise encounter leaves Denizon with an ever-growing list of men falling in love with her.

Her escape route is at hand in the shape of Escuela de Montana d’Armentera, an artistic retreat high up in the Spanish mountains. But her problems only follow, as she discovers.

Will she find true happiness in the Spanish sun or lose everyone she ever held dear?

And is the cost of finding herself too high a price to pay?

 

index1About Lindsay Harper

Lindsay lives in Yorkshire, England with wonderful husband, Paul. She has two grown up children, three young grandchildren, and four springer spaniels! She gave up working full time in 2010 to write and has self-published three metaphysical romances to sell at Mind, Body and Spirit fairs. After having fantastic reviews she decided to embark on her passion – contemporary women’s fiction and now wants to reach a wider audience – hence 5 Prince. When she’s not writing, she’s a homeopath, a dog walker and a DIY enthusiast. For fun she loves Ashtanga yoga, Ascension meditation and the sea – and one day would love to live by it.

How to contact Lindsay Harper

lindsayharper.co.uk

lindsayharperauthor (facebook), @lindsayharper (Twitter)

 

 Excerpt of How to Have an Amicable Divorce

May

Denizon smiled as she saw whose name was flashing up on caller display.

‘Hello love, how’s it going? Are you still having a wonderful time?’

‘Yes brilliant, thanks,’ answered Robyn, her best friend and sister-in-law, speaking from the other side of the world in New Zealand.

‘You’ll be home soon, won’t you? I can’t believe you’ve been there eight weeks already.’

‘Neither can I,’ Robyn paused. ‘In fact, that’s the main reason I’m ringing. I’ve decided to stay.’

‘What? Forever?’ Denizon panicked.

‘No, not forever, silly. Just for four more weeks. Gerald has been invited to spend time at his niece’s new villa on the Cap D’Azur, so I thought I’d take advantage of the extra time off and spend it with my wonderful husband.’

‘I take it it’s still going well?’

‘I can’t believe how well. It’s like being in a new relationship, but better. We’ve fallen in love all over again.’

‘I’m really pleased for you, Rob.’

‘The training is also going better than anticipated and, hopefully, Dave will be finished in about six weeks, so he’ll be coming back to England then. He’ll have to be located in London for another few months, but at least we can spend weekends together … How’s my darling brother?’

Denizon sighed. ‘Chris is fine. He’s been promoted to Crew Manager.’

‘That’s great, isn’t it?’ Robyn asked on listening to her friends sigh.

‘Yes,’ Denizon said tentatively. ‘But he’s been away on two residential courses so far, and he’s got another one coming up.’

‘Let me guess, you’re bored.’

‘I suppose a bit, my best friend is at the other side of the world and my husband is never here.’

‘You’ve got Barney.’

‘I know, but he’s not great with the conversation.’

‘Cheer up, love. You sound like I did a few weeks ago … are you doing much with your art at the moment?’

‘Funny you should mention that. I received a phone call yesterday from the University. The Art Department is looking for tutors to teach a summer school and wondered if I’d be interested.’

‘Well then, that’s something to do,’ Robyn said enthusiastically. ‘Are you going to apply?’

‘I think so, but I’ve never taught before. There’s a training course in a couple of weeks that I could go on to teach me to teach. It would mean I couldn’t have Barney for a couple of weeks.’

‘Well, I’m sure Sarah could cope for two weeks. She leaves him with you enough. It’s only fair you have some time to do what you want, and I think it’d be good for you.’

‘You’re probably right. I’ll ring them back and tell them I’ll do the training course. If I enjoy it, who knows it might lead to something else.’

‘I think that’s great news. You’d be a good teacher.’

‘Thanks, love… hadn’t you better be going? This’ll be costing you a fortune.’

‘I suppose so. I’ll message you next week to arrange a time when we can all get together to Skype.’

‘Oh! Before I forget, Jay and Max were on Breakfast Time this morning talking about Jay’s book,’ Denizon added.

‘I thought he was in America.’

‘He was, but he’s back to do a short book tour round London.’

‘Was he good? I assume Max was.’

‘He was actually, a natural in front of the camera.’

‘It figures! What were they talking about?’

‘About affairs in general and why people have them. Max was defending monogamy and Jay was giving his contrary opinion, sharing his views on being with a partner as long as they make you happy. It was interesting, especially seeing as I know him personally.’

‘Did he mention his partner?’ Robyn asked with an edge to her voice.

‘Only that’s he’s with someone who he’s compatible with.’

‘For now,’ Robyn said scathingly.

‘You sound bitter! You’re not are you?’

‘No, not really. I made my choice as well, and I’m so happy I chose Dave. It’s just that I know his book was written when we were together, and I helped him with a lot of it. I just don’t get any credit.’

‘Don’t start all that again,’ Denizon reprimanded. ‘You’ve got a perfect life now, don’t even think about Jay.’

‘Ay, Ay captain. On that note I’m going now, and we’ll speak next week. Love you, Den.’

‘Love you too, Rob. Take care.’ She placed the phone back in its cradle and smiled. Her friend would never change.

If she was honest, the thought of teaching scared her. Being an artist was a very solitary profession and her own paintings were personal to her. She wouldn’t know how to bring out the best in her students or even if they’d appreciate what she had to say. But Robyn was right – it would be good for her – because not only was she bored, she was lonely.

Without Robyn on the other end of the phone or just round the corner she had nobody. Both her parents had been dead for years, and she was their only offspring. Robyn was the closest thing to a sister she’d ever known, and she totally relied on her for everything. She’d never been one for making friends easily and had gotten so used to her own company all day that sometimes she found it difficult to start conversations. She knew this frustrated her husband, Chris, who was the most gregarious person she had ever met.

She often thought it was why Chris had been tempted to seek out the company of other women throughout their married life and probably why she’d made allowances for that particular trait. Chris loved going out and socialising, whereas she preferred a good book or a black and white film. Robyn had loaned her Dr Max Hammond’s book, “Effective Communication”, and it made her realise that the two of them didn’t have a lot to talk about. She had become infatuated with him at age sixteen and hadn’t really looked at another man until she finally snared him six years ago.

Chris loved her, of that there was no doubt, but she just wasn’t stimulating enough for him, and he wasn’t intellectual enough for her. He was ruled by his body, and she was ruled by her brain. Since her dice with death last year their relationship had been the best it’d ever been. It was the first time since they’d got together she could honestly say she trusted him. But it had been to the detriment of his personality. He no longer went out as much, offering to spend every evening with her. She could see the life slowly seeping out of him as he tried his best to be something he wasn’t.

The recent promotion at work seemed to perk him up slightly and, even though she missed his company, she knew it was best for his sanity. Maybe tutoring would be the incentive I need to make new friends – and going out to work at a real job could, potentially, make me more interesting. It was with that thought she picked up the phone to ring the University and booked herself on the short teacher training course.

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction/Romance/Contemporary

Release Date: May 15, 2014

Digital ISBN-10: 1631120441 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-044-2

Print ISBN-10: 163112045X ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-045-9

Purchase link: http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html

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Cover Reveal For Serpent Priestess of the Annunaki

Series: dragon Court series

Genre: Fiction, Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology, Fantasy, Historical

Release Date: June 19, 2014

Digital ISBN-10: 1631120522 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-052-7

Print ISBN-10: 1631120530 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-053-4

 

Serpent Priestess of the Annunaki

The Annunaki on Nibiru lack precious metals, stones and minerals, which they desire, food on Nibiru is also running low. Their solution: establish a colony on a distant planet teeming with wildlife and vegetation. When the Annunaki discover they are ill equipped to labor under the harsh conditions found on Earth, they create a workforce called humans, a hybrid manufactured from their DNA and a species known as hominid.

The Serpent Priestess Ninkha and her husband Lord Enki are charged with this task, battling not only the challenges faced adjusting to life on Earth, but Enki’s brother, Enlil, as well. Will the humans live as Enki and Ninkha envisioned–able to learn, create and above all, reason? Or will they subjugate themselves to Enlil and his rule willingly?

At stake is the future of the Priestesses of Damuth, who, along with their serpents, service the Annunaki with their own blood, providing those who partake of the cocktail of blood and venom the ultimate in achieving a higher state of consciousness, along with youth, vigour and longevity. If Enlil, whose disdain of them is well-known, wins, what will happen to them?

To protect themselves and their descendants they form the ‘Dragon Court’, but is it enough?

Serpent Priestesses or Witches, Gods or Demons, Aliens or Ancestors, Oppressors or Creators?

Perhaps all of the above…………..

The Ice Goddess b Hannelore Moore

The Ice Goddess

In the bitter winter of 1752, Evangeline Grey is determined to return to London, claim her inheritance, and lead a solitary, uneventful existence. York holds too many sad memories for her now, and she’s ready to leave it behind.

When she finds out that her guardian has designs on her — and her pending fortune — Evangeline manages to escape, but her journey south is fraught with uncertainty and danger. Mourning the murder of her brother, still reeling from her aunt’s recent death, and close to penniless until she finds her way back to London, she’s never been more alone.

And then, on a desolate Northern English moor, she meets a benevolent stranger who changes everything.

Kendall Beaumont is a man running from a few demons of his own. On his way to his home in remote Almsborough, he stops to help the pretty, young runaway. The future seems fairly bleak for the both of them — until he decides to make her an offer she can’t refuse…

Hannelore Moore About Hannelore Moore:

In 2012, Hannelore published a short story in Timeless, a young adult anthology from Cool Well Press. Since then, her work has appeared in The Rusty Nail literary magazine and on the Flash Fiction World website, among other places. In June 2013, she won The Iron Writer Challenge #17. Hannelore is a rabid Anglophile, as you’ll discover when you read her work, and recently published her first novel, Tower Bridge. You can find more information about her on Hannelore’s Happenings (http://hanneloreshappenings.blogspot.com/)

How to reach Hannelore Moore:

Twitter: @HanneloreMoore1

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/hannelore.moore.10

Blog: http://hanneloreshappenings.blogspot.com/

 

Excerpt of The Ice Goddess

1752

Evangeline

I’m worried about my Aunt Caroline. Her laughter is infrequent these days, and she seems to be walking through the house in a sort of haze. Once, in the dining room, I even saw her clutch onto the back of a chair, as though she were steadying herself. When I rushed over to ask what was wrong, she gently held up her hand to prevent any help I might offer and said she was fine; she just hadn’t slept well the night before.

As I stand by the window and stare out into the dull, February afternoon, I have a marvelous hope: perhaps she is with child. That would make her unbelievably happy. She’s always wanted a baby but was never so fortunate with her first husband, Andrew.

I turn to see Gregory walk into the small study, and I smile at him slightly, wondering if he suspects the same thing about his wife. I think he’s surprised by my expression, for it’s rare that I interact with him at all.

After two years, I still can’t get over Gregory’s youth and good looks. He’s so handsome with his chiseled features and pale blue eyes that it’s almost distracting. He wears wool breeches and one of his heaviest dress coats, for the day is exceedingly cold, despite the bright, dancing fire in the grate. He was muttering about the price of perukes the other day – maybe that’s why he’s powdered his own dark-blond hair and pulled it back into a queue. From what I understand, he’s nothing like Andrew Bingham, who was portly and jolly and near sixty when he died. Indeed, in Andrew’s simple, scholarly house, filled with books and maps that I treasure, Gregory sometimes appears at a loss.

I’ve always suspected that he wasn’t too pleased when Em and I came from London to live here. Nevertheless, he’s treated us with kindness — or maybe a better word is indifference. For some reason, though, my brother has openly showed disdain towards him ever since we arrived in York. Em never told me exactly why Gregory bothered him so, but perhaps he saw or heard things that were kept from me. Then again, Em treats most people scornfully.

Gregory toys with the chess set on the elm tripod table. Lately, I’ve been running into him more often, it seems. That musky cologne he wears always precedes him. He wanders into various rooms when I’m already there or ends up at the stables planning to ride when I’m preparing my own horse for an outing. Right now, he picks up a knight made of veined white marble and studies it absently.

“Would you like to play?” I ask, wishing I were more comfortable with him so I could broach the subject of my aunt. But I can wait. Such news is out in good time.

“Play?” he echoes, looking up at me, and the light in those eyes makes me think he’s talking about something else. There’s a lilt in his voice as he says, “Not just now, Evangeline.”

I nod. It’s probably better, anyway. We had a game once, and I won, easily. Gregory was angry about that, although he tried to pretend otherwise. Em stood in the background, smiling broadly, not attempting in the least to hide his glee over Gregory’s loss.

We can hear the pounding at the front door from here. As surprising and desperate as the summons is, I’m glad of it, for Gregory’s eyes haven’t left me. They’re steady and contemplative. I get nervous when people pay too much attention to me, always thankful for anything that might distract them.

We both step out of the study as Caroline starts down the stairs. Our butler is leading David, the innkeeper’s son, through the entryway. I push Gregory to the back of my mind because too many things about this new scene disturb me. Why is David here, wearing that torn black greatcoat? He set off to Oxford with Em just a fortnight ago to serve as a valet. Em, you see, wouldn’t hear of living on his own without a manservant. The boy is dirty and ragged, quite a different creature from the proud, well-scrubbed assistant we sent south. At that time, he preened in his new clothes, looking as much the proper young man as Em. Even my brother, usually self-absorbed with his own concerns, complimented him on his aplomb.

And then there’s Aunt Caroline, approaching David now, her eyes worried and afraid. She looks terrible. I realize she wasn’t feeling well today, which explains why she decided to rest after dinner, but the malady afflicting her is more than a simple headache. There’s something dreadfully wrong with her. She should have stayed in bed. I know she is too curious, though, and evidently struggled downstairs again to see who was calling. Despite the fact that she wears a loose sack dress, it’s obvious she’s lost weight. Against the dull, snuff-brown linen of her garment, her skin is pale. Not fashionably so, but sallow and waxy and damp with perspiration. I try to convince myself that women appear this way in the first months of their pregnancy, but I give that up quickly enough. My aunt isn’t with child and probably never will be.

She leads David into the withdrawing room. Gregory and I follow, even though I want to run in the opposite direction. Out the front door, to the stables so I can saddle my horse and ride far away from here. I watch, becoming detached, as she tells David to sit before the fire. The boy doubles over in a worn upholstered chair and begins to cry. I don’t want to feel what he’s feeling; I don’t want to know what he’s going to say. After a while, he calms down, for, despite her illness, Caroline’s easy presence soothes him. She has a way of doing that, of making people comfortable.

“Can you tell me now?” she asks in her sweet voice.

David stares at the unadorned, wooden hearth, and then, with dull, heavy words, he relates a story about highwaymen and the Oxford coach. Somewhere south of Nottingham, they blocked its progress. The occupants were mercilessly shot, including Em. Only David managed to escape. It has taken him this long to return to York, and he misses his mother very much — more than he ever thought he would. But before he saw her, before he went home, he wanted to come here to let us know what happened.

I continue to look at David as he speaks, refusing to believe him. Em can’t be dead. Not Em, who has so much planned for himself. He intends to write a great novel, just like Mr. Fielding, his idol. And as long as I can remember, he’s looked forward to teaching at Oxford. He loves poetry and prose and hopes to help others appreciate the beauty of the written word. A mere pistol shot wouldn’t hurt someone like him. His sarcasm and that condescending manner of his make him invulnerable.

“No,” I say to David, almost apologetically. “Not true.”

Gregory steps over and takes my hand in his, but I continue to study David. The boy is wrong. He has to be.

“Do you think I’m making this up?” David says. “Why would I tell such a lie?”

“You’re mistaken.” I shake my head and feel very dizzy all of a sudden. Gregory has to steady me, apparently, by wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“Have Abby take Evangeline up to her room.” I hear Aunt Caroline say, and the next thing I know, I’m climbing the faded wooden stairs, my lady’s maid at my side. We are at my threshold and then in my room, and it’s so incredibly cold. Abby leads me to my plain bed and I have the presence of mind to sit down on the edge. I stare past her, seeing nothing.

“You must rest.” I hear the catch in her voice and wonder why she would be upset, because it’s obvious that David is wrong.

I nod anyway, to appease her, and allow her to prepare me for bed. The day is gray and never seems to end.

 

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction/Romance/Historical

Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.html

 

Cover Reveal For The Letter Drawer

Cover Reveal
For
The Letter Drawer
Sarah Galloway

6962006_orig

 The Letter Drawer
True love never dies, but is it enough to heal a broken faith?

Claire and Evan met when they were children. They grew up together and fell in love. When Evan became a soldier, he and Claire held onto their love, remaining faithful to one another through every deployment. As the years passed, it seemed that life had given them everything they ever wanted … until tragedy struck.
Evan, left in the wake of tragedies, is now forced to decide what is most precious to him. Will love heal him or will devastation destroy his faith? Can Evan’s family show him the way? Can love truly set him free?

Genre: Fiction, Christian, Romance
Release Date: June 12, 2014

Another installment of the Keller Family Series by Bernadette Marie

The Acceptance

The Keller Family Series Book Eight

Bernadette Marie

82956-theacceptance
Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary

Release Date: May 29, 2014

Digital ISBN-10: 1631120360 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-036-7

Print ISBN-10: 1631120379 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-037-4

Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html

 

Book Blurb

Tyler Benson’s world was shaken with the news that he had a sister—one he never knew he had. Though he loves his sister, and his family remains a tightly woven unit, he simply can’t shake the feeling of betrayal from his mother. After a sabbatical from his family to find himself it is time to head back home and try to pick up the pieces of his life.

Courtney Fields has learned to deal with many tragedies. Losing her sight at eight-years-old was only a challenge that gave her many other skills. Now dealing with the loss of her brother in combat will no doubt teach her new lessons in life.

When Tyler meets Courtney on a South bound flight to Nashville he couldn’t possibly have expected that she’d be his lesson in accepting the things he cannot change or control. But can he reciprocate in helping her accept the loss of her brother when she learns the truth of his death?

Excerpt from the Acceptance

There was something about an airport. People were coming and going. Some were heading out for adventure and some were heading home—just like Tyler Benson.

Nashville would always be home. He’d taken nearly three years to see the world and think his life through. He wasn’t sure he had a better grasp on it yet, but he knew one thing—he missed his family.

Why had he let his mother’s choices affect him so much? Things must have been pretty bad for her if she gave up a child and never spoke of it again.

The man in him understood. She was protecting him and his brother from what had happened to her when she’d fallen in love with an abusive man who tried to kill her. But the boy in him was still hurt.

Heading back wouldn’t fix everything. He assumed there’d be a lot of late night talks over the kitchen table as there had been when he was a teenager. His father already had offered him a good job in the construction firm which had been in the family for generations. And—he needed to finally get to really know his sister.

Darcy had been as shocked as Tyler when she’d learned who her mother was. After all, she’d fallen in love with Tyler’s cousin—that had to have been a little odd. But the Keller family was eclectic. It was made up of lots of adopted children, but they were still one big family.

His cousin Ed and his sister Darcy had been married over a year now. Their wedding had been the only time Tyler had been home in three years. Now it was time to face his parents and ask for some forgiveness, though he was sure they’d give it to him. Everyone understood his need to find himself.

They called his flight from New York to Nashville and it was time to board the plane. He stood and moved toward the line as a woman ran right into him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly.

“It’s no problem.” He looked down and noticed she’d dropped her scarf. “You dropped this.” He bent down to pick it up and hand it to her.

The woman only held out her hand, but didn’t reach for it. Tyler placed it in her open hand.

“Oh, thank you. I lose more things.” She gave a casual laugh and continued on. It was then he noticed the cane in her other hand.

“Do you need an arm to get on the plane?”

She smiled at him, though her eyes were shielded behind big sunglasses. “Are you a nice man or do you feel sorry for me?”

That was quite a question, he thought. “Well, I’d like to think it was because I was raised right.”

“You’re from the South.” She thought a moment. “Tennessee?”

“Yes. Born and raised in Nashville.”

She leaned in closer to him. “I guessed from your accent and since we’re getting on a flight bound that way.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Offer still holds.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Tyler. Tyler Benson.”

“Courtney Fields and, Mr. Benson, I’d love to have you guide me if you don’t mind.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

He let her take his arm, though she didn’t interlock elbows, instead she held the back of his arm just above his elbow.

When they approached the door Courtney held out her ticket and the woman scanned the ticket and placed the stub back in her hand. She then did the same for Tyler.

Once checked in, they walked down the jet bridge.

“Do you travel a lot, Mr. Benson?”

“It’s Tyler, and I’ve been doing my fair share the past few years. How about you?”

“I’ve been seeing the world, though not intentionally. So yes. I travel quite a bit. But this is a special trip back home.”

He desperately wanted to ask her why she said she’d been seeing the world. Could she see? Was it just a figure of speech?

“Hello, Ms. Fields.” The stewardess greeted her as they walked on board.

“Celia.” Courtney smiled, having obviously recognized the woman’s voice. “I didn’t expect you on this flight.”

“I’m state side now.” Celia took Courtney’s hand which still held her cane and patted it. “I’ve heard we have your brother on board,” she said softly.

Courtney nodded. “Finally.”

“Your family has been in my thoughts for a long time.”

“Thank you,” Courtney said. “Oh, Celia, this is Tyler. My arm candy for the walk down the jet way.”

Celia looked at Tyler and then back at Courtney. “I thought you had an escort.”

“It’s always good to make a new friend. How’s he look?”

Celia scanned another look over him. “You did good.”

Tyler forced a smile. “Thank you?”

Celia laughed. “Courtney, can I help you find your seat?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll use my arm candy.”

Tyler looked at her ticket. “You’re in 3A.”

“Yep, that sounds right. Where are you?”

“I’m in 4F.”

“You like the window too?”

“Luck of the draw really.”

Courtney stopped and turned back to Celia. “Can you see if you can arrange my escort to trade to 4F?”

The smile on Celia’s face and the look she casually gave to Tyler made him a little nervous. His good deed had warranted him a seat change?

“Do you mind sitting by me on the flight? I could use some good company,” Courtney asked.

Tyler thought about the past three years and wondered if he could be good company. But, like he’d told her before, he’d been raised right. And if the woman wanted to sit by him who was he to turn her down?

“If the other passenger doesn’t mind changing I’d be happy to switch.”

“I still like the window. I hope that’s okay,” she said as she walked toward her seat.

Once they were seated Courtney turned to him. “Thank you for picking up my scarf.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for keeping me company. This trip home is a hard one and it’ll be nice to have a handsome man to talk to.”

He wondered what made her trip so hard, besides the obvious hindrance of not being able to see the world around her.

“How do you know I’m so handsome? Celia might have been lying to you.”

She smiled. “Oh, I can tell you’re handsome. And you’re not married. I would guess you’re in your mid to late twenties. You were well educated. You’re about six-two. And you have blue eyes.”

He knew that staring at her with his eyes wide open wasn’t going to make her aware of how stunned he was, but for some reason he was sure she knew.

“How do you know all that?”

The smile on her mouth turned into a playful pucker forcing her cheeks to dimple on both sides. “You handed me my scarf with your left hand. You don’t have a ring.”

“You felt for a ring?”

“I dropped the scarf on purpose. You smelled good.”

That made him laugh aloud. “Okay, keep going.”

“I’ve held the arms of many people. I’m five-five, so I know my heights from there.”

“I’m six-three.”

“I was close.”

“My education?”

“You have an accent, but your words have a refined quality to them. I’d guess you can speak more than one language.”

“My father speaks French, and so does my aunt. I’ve always known both.”

She nodded slowly as though she were collecting her reward for knowing so much.

“Okay, those are all logical. How do you know I have blue eyes?”

“That one was a guess, but I was right. You just told me.”

“You have quite a talent.”

Courtney turned her head toward the window. “You also seemed lost.”

“I beg your pardon. How would you know that?”

“I could feel it. It felt as though you could use some company and I sure know I could.”

He wasn’t sure how this woman could tell so much about him, but she had a keen sense of the world around her.

The last passenger to board the plane was a soldier in uniform. As he passed by their row he looked down at Courtney as if he knew she’d be there and then he continued to his seat which Tyler noted was the seat he was to have occupied.

As the doors were secured the pilot came over the speaker.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be starting our flight shortly. I wanted to inform you that we have the honor of flying a vet home to his final resting place today.”

The air in the plane grew thick and Tyler could hear the many gasps and even sobs which had come from that announcement. He turned toward Courtney who had gripped her hands in front of her and pressed her forehead to her white knuckles.

“Are you okay?”

She lifted her head and he could see the tears streak down her cheek from under her sunglasses. Hesitantly she nodded.

“I’m finally getting to make the journey to take my brother home.”

Tyler let out a long breath and watched as this woman he’d just met turned her face toward the warmth of the sun coming in through the small window.

He’d gained a sister and felt like his world had ended.

Courtney had lost a brother and yet was thankful to be with him on his final ride home.

Tyler rested his head against the back of his seat. His life didn’t make any more sense than it had three years ago when he’d left Nashville. But at least when he got there his brother, sister, and his parents would be there.

What was there for Courtney?

 

Contact Author

www.bernadettemarie.com

www.facebook.com/authorbernadettemarie

www.authorbernadettemarie.blogspot.com

@writesromance on Twitter

info@bernadettemarie.com

 

The End by Denise Moncrief

The End:

Sometimes the end is only the beginning.

 

Almost a year after her husband dies, Ellie Marston opens the file for Tab’s last manuscript, a thriller so compelling it reads like a true story. His manuscript needs an ending, so Ellie writes the obvious conclusion. The same morning she types The End, her career as an assistant district attorney falls apart. Accused of throwing the high profile Patterson case, she resigns in disgrace. The only friend she has left in the criminal justice system is Det. Paul Santiago, a man she has worked closely with on numerous cases. While she was married to Tab, she squashed her growing feelings for Paul, determined to make her deteriorating marriage work, but circumstances after Tab’s death bring Ellie and Paul together.

Ellie’s paranoia increases as she becomes convinced Patterson is harassing her, certain that someone is searching her belongings for any hidden evidence she might have that would reopen his case. It becomes clear there was a conspiracy to release Patterson. She seeks help from her former co-worker, Presley Sinclair, but soon discovers Presley is deeply involved in the subsequent cover up. Worse yet, Tab’s affair with Presley drew him into the twisted conspiracy as well.

Together Paul and Ellie attempt to uncover the conspiracy in the District Attorney’s office, the set up that forced her to resign. The key to the mystery is hidden in the pages of Tab’s manuscript. Once Paul and Ellie come to the correct conclusion—Tab’s manuscript is a true story and Ellie’s added ending is the only logical outcome—Ellie attempts to reveal Patterson’s hidden partner in the District Attorney’s office, but the co-conspirator she uncovers is not whom she suspects. Danger swirls around her as she steps further and further into the conspirator’s trap.

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Excerpt of The End:

Tab’s Mac wobbled on the edge of the coffee table in front of me as my fingers tapped out the letters of the final sentence of the final scene as if they had a mind of their own. The idea for the ending had come to me in the middle of the night, and I was determined to finish the project before I forgot what I wanted to write. I hit return and then spaced down and typed The End with a flourish. I didn’t know if writers wrote that at the end of a manuscript, but I did it anyway.

I leaned back on the sofa. A smile should have formed, but it didn’t. I was pleased…but exhausted. The urge to finish Tab’s final project had been satisfied. How did he do this? The process had mutilated every one of my emotions.

He had put a lot of himself into his writing. I’d watched him, absorbed for hours on end, struggling to choose just the right word or just the right sentence structure. He’d tried for years to get an agent or a publisher to read one of his manuscripts. After numerous rejections, he’d send them to the virtual trash bin with an angry jab to the delete button. It appeared like a lot of wasted effort to me.

Thinking about Tab kicked me in the gut once again. He had been dead for almost a year, but his memory could still hit me hard when I least expected it. It’s true. You never get over losing someone you love the way I had loved him.

I was awake late one night the previous week watching Castle on a Netflix disk, when I decided it was time to read Tab’s unfinished masterpiece—well at least it would have been a masterpiece in his humble opinion—if he had discussed it with me. He never mentioned the project. I didn’t even know the manuscript existed until after the accident that took his life. If I hadn’t been searching the hard drive of his Mac for something else, I would have never known about it.

Odd. Tab wasn’t a secretive sort of guy. Was he?

So his unfinished manuscript had remained unread on the hard drive of his Mac for months. I’d put the idea of reading his final words aside, but then I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to read what he left behind.

When I opened the file, I expected to read something sentimental and just a little cheesy, something with a made-for-television happy ending. I expected to cry like a baby when I read his final words. Tab was the most dramatic man I’d ever met.

Instead, I became engrossed in a thriller that read so real I wondered if he had written a true story. All the plot needed was a realistic ending.

And the end came to me in the middle of the night.

It was done now. For better or for worse. I reached for my coffee mug and took a sip, then grimaced. The brew had gone stone cold. I rose from the sofa and slogged into the kitchen to refill my cup and stick it in the microwave. As I waited for the ready beep, the view outside my window captured my attention. A bare limb of an oak tree swayed, easily manipulated by the wind. The weather promised another gloomy, rainy day. I pulled my robe closer around me, but the chill of the morning pierced the terry cloth. I shuddered and headed for my bedroom.

My linens lay on my bed, twisted and tangled from tossing and turning. I had no desire to go to work. Finishing Tab’s masterpiece had drained my energy, and when I finally dragged my butt into the office, I would have to confront my boss. Executive Assistant District Attorney Michael Leads would not be happy with my lack of progress on the Baxter case. Into my second year as an assistant district attorney, I was well aware I had missed my calling. My confidence in the criminal justice system had disappeared. My passion for convicting the right offender put me in constant conflict with a process that had morphed over the years into a system designed for speed rather than accuracy.

With no enthusiasm, I dressed for the day. I chose my best black suit because it matched my mood, but beneath it I wore a bright, cherry red blouse. My power outfit. I needed all the chutzpah I could manage to face Leads’ wrath. It was coming at me, like a hurricane hovering off the coast trying to decide which shore was most vulnerable.

After applying a few final touches to my makeup, I zipped a brush through my hair, made a pretense of brushing my teeth, and swished an ounce of mouthwash. I held my hand over my mouth. My breath still smelled of stale coffee. I looked into the mirror and groaned, then swiped at the toothpaste stain on my lapel with a damp rag before heading toward the living room. After a few minutes of panicked searching, I found my only pair of black heels under the sofa.

I was as ready for my confrontation with Leads as I was ever going to get. My briefcase leaned next to the front door where I’d dropped it the night before. I had planned to review some case files before I went to bed, but once I closed my apartment door behind me, nothing could have motivated me to open my briefcase last night.

The ride to the office was probably the longest of my career. Lights flashed through the windows as the train passed through another station. I held tight to a strap above me because all the seats were full, always a marker of how my day would go. I was running late, and there was no hope for me.

My mind drifted. Instead of mentally listing the things I needed to accomplish at work that day, I dwelt on how I should have chosen a different path for my life and what that path would have been. Had everything I suffered to work my way through college and then law school really been for nothing?

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction/Romance/Suspense

Release Date: September 5, 2012

Digital ISBN 13:978-1-939217-69-1 ISBN 10: 1-939217-69-5

Print ISBN 13:978-1-939217-70-7  ISBN 10: 1-939217-70-9

Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.html

 

download (6)Denise wrote her first story when she was in high school—seventeen hand-written pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she read. She earned a degree in accounting, giving her some nice skills to earn a little money, but her passion has always been writing. She has written numerous short stories and more than a few full-length novels. Her favorite pastimes when she’s not writing are spending time with her family, traveling, reading, and scrapbooking. She lives in Louisiana with her husband, two children, and one very chubby dog.

www.denisemoncrief.com

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www.amazon.com/Denise-Moncrief/e/B007Y6Z1CU

On Thin Ice By Bernadette Marie

Another great novel by Bernadette Marie… On Thin Ice!!

Bernadette Author

Malory (Wil) Wilson needed to recover from her divorce. A nice transition from West Coast life back to Aspen Creek, the small Colorado mountain town she grew up in would put things straight. The plan was foolproof until she discovered that the first man to break her heart, retired NHL player Christopher Douglas, also returned to Aspen Creek.

 

Christopher had taken enough hits in his career. He didn’t know his heart would take one when Wil returned to Aspen Creek. Hell bent on winning her over after having broken her heart years earlier, he will risk everything to get her back—including his life.

 

When the ice rink Malory’s father built faces being shut down the couple find themselves working together to save the business. However, forgiveness and newfound love just might come to a crashing end when Christopher’s archenemy skates into town bent on revenge.

 

Skating on thin ice, without a guardian angel looking out for Christopher, Malory could lose him forever.

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Excerpt of On Thin Ice:

The tires of Malory’s old red Jeep crunched the frozen snow over loose gravel. The sound curled her mouth into a smile. That was how winter was supposed to sound.

The sky filled with the orange and blue hues of a rising sun as the chill of the air stirred together with the heat from the vehicle’s heater. All of it brought back a flood of memories from her childhood. All of them warm and welcome.

She pulled her Jeep into a parking space in front of the large metal building that housed the ice arena. A huge banner above the front doors read, “Home to NHL Player Christopher Douglas.”

She shook her head. Well, she thought, at least someone claimed him. If memory was correct, he’d played for multiple NHL teams in his very short professional career. So he’d never called anywhere home for long, except Aspen Creek.

But everyone had started somewhere, including her.

Above the banner announcing the fame of Christopher Douglas was the name of the building. Aspen Creek Ice Center.

It was good to be home.

And home was where she planned to stay.

She didn’t see her father’s pickup parked on the side of the building. She’d told him she’d meet him there at seven. It was already seven-ten. He wouldn’t have headed off to breakfast without her. After all, he’d awakened her at four forty-five in the morning just to invite her.

She turned off the engine and pulled the keys from the column, placing them in the pocket of her coat. She might have been born and raised in the small Colorado town where people left their doors unlocked and the keys in their cars, but she’d been in California long enough to have picked up some less trusting habits. Sadly, those new habits had her locking part of herself away too.

She stepped out into the cold and quickly slid on her gloves. It was the kind of cold that took your breath away. It froze the inside of your nose, and when the wind blew through the valley, it burned your skin. She pulled the stocking cap from her pocket and pulled it over her head, making sure to cover her ears. She hit the lock on the door and slammed it shut. Then as fast as she could, without falling on her butt, she headed across the slick parking lot for the front door of the arena, which had been the love child of her mother and father years before she’d been born.

The heater above the door did its job. It took that pins-and-needles chill from her skin just enough to comfort her.

White concrete walls, which held bleachers on the other side, blocked the view of the ice rink from the door. There were no spectators at seven fifteen on a Wednesday morning, but the ice wasn’t empty.

Malory had been there enough times in the early morning to know that at least a dozen figure skaters and a few hockey players had already etched their presence into the glossy finish of the ice before they went about their day.

Malory stood there for a moment. She closed her eyes and just let the building surround her. When she opened them, the smiling faces of the hundreds that had graced the ice over the past forty years greeted her. Early photographs in black-and-white and later ones in color lined the corridor that lead toward the ice. The first set of eyes to catch her matched her own. They were her mother’s.

Malory stood and stared at the picture of her mother, then only twenty-two. She wore an Olympic medal around her neck and had a bouquet of roses tucked in the crevice of her arm. Hadn’t that been the very picture her father had hoped to recreate with her? Oh, he’d tried, but she was never the skater her mother had been.

She blew out a breath. Her parents had opened the skating rink with money her mother had won from competitions and endorsements after her Olympic win. People had laughed at them. The hockey player wanna-be and the washed-up Olympian. What good was it going to do to build an ice rink in a town of three thousand? But the gamble had paid off.

Young girls wanted to skate under Ginger Bromell-Wilson. Boys wanted to learn to play hockey from Harvey Wilson, the man who had almost made it to the NHL. Neighboring towns embraced the opportunity, and the Aspen Creek Ice Center was born.

Only four short years later Malory entered the picture. Another two and her mother was gone.

Malory had lived thirty-one years without her mother, but it still tore her apart. She didn’t know her. She didn’t have one memory of her except for the pictures that hung on the walls of the building her father had put up twenty years ago to replace the original structure. What Malory had was the sadness that her father had always carried in his heart.

He’d tried to replace Ginger, Malory now understood, with her. He’d tried to raise her to be an Olympian figure skater. But she was no Ginger Bromell-Wilson. She was only a look-alike with some of the skill.

Malory let her mother’s eyes follow her as she walked down the corridor toward the ice. There were no figure skaters on the ice as she’d first thought. She didn’t have to see it to know that. The sound was of a single skater. The short stops that tore up the ice and the sound of wood hitting the cold hard surface said hockey player. There was the sound of the puck sliding on the ice. The ping as the puck ricocheted off of the pole and the crack of the stick against the ice in a fit of anger resonated through the arena. Curses that flew from the mouth of the player confirmed that the player was an adult and had missed the mark of the net. A low laugh escaped her throat. You were never too old to enjoy indoor ice.

She turned down the short hall that led to the ice. The smell of adrenaline and sweat had permeated every crevice of the building over the years. It was a nasty smell, but it too made her feel at home.

Breathing deeply, she lifted her head to watch the hockey player she’d heard when she walked in. She saw him and gasped. He skated down the ice, around the other net, keeping the puck on the edge of his stick and then as he hit the blue line, he smacked the puck into the net. He turned back around, caught the puck with the stick, and then caught her eye.

The crooked grin that erupted on his face made her heart rate kick up. It raced so fast that she wasn’t sure her chest would hold it inside any longer. Fifteen years had passed since they’d last spoken, but not a day had gone by that she hadn’t thought of him.

Malory tried to will her feet to walk closer to the door he skated toward. She found the task hard to do. His hair was long and peeked out of the sides and back of his helmet. His dark eyes sparkled as he neared her.

By the time he’d unlatched the door, she realized she’d walked toward him and now he towered above her only inches away. At six foot three, he was an enormous sight in front of her. The skates added at least three more inches to his height. He wore no pads, but his shoulders were square and muscular under his loose jersey.

 

Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com

Genre: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary

Release Date: September 4, 2013

Digital ISBN 13:978-1-939217-75-2 ISBN 10: 1-939217-75-X

Print ISBN 13:978-1-939217-76-9 ISBN 10: 1-939217-76-8

Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.html

 

Other posts on Bernadette Marie

Lost and Found, Center Stage, First Kiss, Keller Family, Opposite attract

 

An interview with Maria Martinez Greer, star of novel Star Bright

Tred paint backgroundoday on my blog I am joined by Maria Greer whose life story is told in the inspirational romance novel Star Bright by Christina OW. She talks about her life after the abuse she faced at the hands of her ex-boyfriend Ricky and the happiness she’s found with her husband Dave.

Star Bright is a wonderful book that keeps you at the edge of your seat with each page you turn. It’s quite staggering and disturbing that this story is based on someone’s life- Maria’s. What’s more frightening is that there are thousands of women out there in the world going through the same thing.

But we are here today on a more uplifting note, to discuss Maria’s journey from hell to her own kind of heaven. Without further delay, let the interview begin.

 

Host:   Maria, I’m glad you could join me today. Honestly, I’m quite surprised that you agreed to this interview.

Maria: Thanks for having me. To be quite honest with you, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for        Dave. A year ago, I wouldn’t have agreed to this but… (She pushes her hair behind her ear) well, I’m sure you’ll ask me about that later on.

Host:  Yes. I would like to start from the beginning (Maria fidgets in her seat) How is your relationship with your father? Have you moved past feeling abandoned?

Maria: (A shadow of a smile on her lips) we’ve seen him twice these past few years, during the Christmas holidays. Christmas in Cancun is wonderful and seeing my mom makes it even better. (Dave coughs behind me and I notice a sudden change in Maria) Though I rarely see him we talk as much as we possibly can. We are taking it one day at a time. I’m new to the whole father-daughter relationship.

Host:   You mentioned Christmas in Mexico, does this mean Dave won the bet? (The heavy chuckle behind me made Maria glare, but it was evident she was suppressing a smile).

Maria: Let’s not inflate his ego further. Next question please.

Host:  (I laugh) Okay. How are Michael and precious Izzy?

Maria: (her smile beams happily) they are wonderful. Michael is our little genius. Dave thinks in a year or two they’d have to skip him a few grades to keep his interests focused on school. And Izzy is in preschool and loving every day of it.

Host:  That’s great to hear especially knowing what they’ve gone through. But what I’d really like to know is how their relationship is with Miguel?

Maria: He is a wonderful grandfather. The way they are around him, you’d think Miguel had been present since day one.

Host: And Dave, how does he feel about that relationship?

Maria: (she shakes her head) Ah ah. I know where you are going with this. I’m not discussing that. Enough was reveal in the book.

Host: Okay… hey! A journalist can hope. Back to you, how are things with your muy caliente lawyer?

Maria: (she blushes, fiddling with the rings on her left hand finger) I think you can take a guess. He is wonderful and nothing like… (She stiffens and visibly swallows) like Ricky.

Host:  I know he’s a tough subject to discuss but, would you tell us about your life with him, with Ricky? (Maria’s hands tremble on her lap. It’s shocking to see the effect Ricky still has on her. She then looks up and behind me and the trembling stops. It’s wonderful to see Dave’s effect on her)

Maria: In a word, it was hell. I wouldn’t wish it on any woman. Living in fear for so long (she rubs her arms, her eyes gaining a distant look) I lost myself… my self-esteem. I forgot how it felt to live without fear, who I was, what I loved, my hopes, my dreams. I was completely consumed with fear and I became a woman I didn’t recognize, and even now back to the woman I used to be before Ricky, I still don’t recognize her but I understand her. (She looks at me, straight in the eye with a hard gaze and it gives me chills) But that fear did something great too. The fear of losing my son finally jolted me into taking action. And now because of that one moment of fear, I have everything I’ve ever wanted and deserved.

Host: I’m so glad for you Maria. You look so happy… you are radiating! You deserve all the love and joy in your life. Your story is so heartbreaking and yet inspiring. It made me cry from both sadness and happiness. Your courage is to be admired and I hope someone will find strength from you story into taking action and living they life they deserve.

Maria: (She smiles, quickly wiping a stray tear from her cheek) thank you, I hope so too.

Host: So what now? Now that you’ve gotten your happily ever after, what’s next in Maria Greer’s inspiring life.

Maria: (she chuckles, a tint of pink spreading over her cheeks) Well, I’m currently studying psychology. I’d like to become a counselor for domestically abused women and children. I’d like to help in anyway I can, and as you said inspire them to live the life they deserve. And well… (The pink in her cheeks grows crimson. She looks up and smiles. I look behind and standing there with a huge goofy grin on his face is her hot lawyer husband Dave. He moves into the room, lifts Maria up. Taking her seat he settles her on his lap.)

Host:  Are you saying what I think you are saying? (Maria turns, hiding her face behind her gorgeous hair making Dave laugh. He moves his hand to her belly and she places hers over his.)

Dave: What do you think we are saying?

And like a good journalist I sat there, keeping my cool when all I wanted to do was jump up and down and shriek excitedly, and waited for him to say the words. I need the confirmation, right from the horse’s mouth per say. Drawing conclusions without proof is bad business for us.

But Dave just kept smiling at me- and I’m sure that’s what nabbed Maria, that dangerous sexy smile- not saying a word. I didn’t push, I didn’t nag and when he stood up tacking Maria into his side, I knew the man was a sadist at heart. Dave Greer led his wife out of my interview room with a quick ‘bye’ and creating a journalist’s worst nightmare when he said ‘take a wild guess’.

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Get Star Bright for $.99, you only have 3 days before it goes back to its orignal price of $2.99. Don’t miss out on this inspiring interracial romance suspense!

A Heart Not Easily Broken on Sale this month!!!

Everyone is looking for romance, but what would you sacrifice if you held the key to the happiness of the ones you love?

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Ebony is a smart, sexy, career-oriented black woman who wants nothing more than a summer fling with a man who challenges her mind and body. What she doesn’t expect is a blond-haired, blue-eyed bass player—who won’t take “no” for an answer—to accept the challenge.

When Ebony’s attempt at a brief fling turns into more, despite negative reactions from friends and family, she finds juggling love, family, and career are nothing compared to the ultimate betrayal she endures. Now her dreams spiral into lies and secrets that threaten her future and her best friend’s trust.

****ON SALE FOR .99 CENTS FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY!!!****

ONE CLICK for REVIEWS, FREE CHAPTER READS, ALL SALES LINKS!

For more information on The Butterfly Memoirs Series and a sample of the next book,Jadedvisit this link! 

 

Author Pic 5.2012ABOUT THE AUTHOR

M.J. Kane stumbled into writing. An avid reader, this stay at home mom never lost the overactive imagination of an only child. As an adult she made up stories, though never shared them, to keep herself entertained. It wasn’t until surviving a traumatic medical incident in 2006 that she found a reason to let the characters inhabiting her imagination free.  Upon the suggestion of her husband, she commandeered his laptop and allowed the characters to take life. It was that, or look over her shoulder for men caring a purple strait jacket. And the rest, as they say, is history.

No longer a television addict, if M.J. isn’t reading a book by one of her favorite authors, she’s battling with her creative muse to balance writing and being a wife and mother. She resides in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia with her high school sweetheart, four wonderful children, and two pit bulls. MJ can often be found hanging out at the local library where she is director of a local writer’s group, or online connecting with readers and other authors. Other activities she enjoys include: creating custom floral arrangements, assisting her children in their creative pursuits of music and art, and supporting her husband’s music production business, 3D Sounds.

MJ’s debut novel, A Heart Not Easily Broken, Book one of the Butterfly Memoirs, became an instant Amazon Bestseller in Multicultural Romance and African-American Literature and Fiction within hours of publication. It has also spent time on the African-American Women’s Fiction and African-American Romance Bestsellers lists.

You can find MJ on social networking sites, sharing writing tips, talking about music, life, and family. She’s always excited to meet new people. Connect with her via the websites below.

The Butterfly Memoirs: Reviews, Free Chapter Samples, All Sales Links

Author M.J. Kane Blog and Website

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New Romantic-Suspense SPLIT DECISIONS by bestselling author Carmen DeSousa is now available!

Split Decisions - Final Cover

Split Decisions is a follow-up novel to the romantic-suspense bestseller She Belongs to Me. While you do not have to read the first book to enjoy the second, we believe you should have the option, so click here to avoid spoilers.

If you’re still here, read on for a first peek at Split Decisions and a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card.

Book Description:

Sometimes you want something so badly you are willing to abandon everything you’ve ever known—including yourself.

Eighteen years ago, Jaynee Monroe married the man of her dreams, became the mother of four, and fulfilled her career goals. About to turn forty, she senses something is missing from her idyllic life. While Googling her name in an attempt to find herself, she unearths something so impossible, she contemplates her own sanity. Seeking answers, she embarks on a journey to discover the truth, only to end up abducted by a deranged stranger who insists on calling her Caycee.

Caycee took the road less traveled. Rejecting a marriage proposal from the only decent man she ever knew, she ventures to California to become famous. Eighteen years later, success has left her alone and miserable. Attempting to locate her lost love on Facebook, she discovers his infatuation with her. Not only does his presumed-dead wife have Caycee’s uncommon middle name, it appears he has photo-shopped her face over hers.

Never could Caycee and Jaynee have imagined decisions they made years earlier would threaten not only their lives but also their loved ones. Caycee must now reunite with the southern gent she dismissed eighteen years ago and convince him to accompany her to New York to locate his wife, the most important person in both their lives.

Download Split Decisions here:

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Now all you have to do to register to win the $10 Amazon Gift Card is share this page via Raffle Copter. Contest ends 7/1/13 at 12:00 a.m. EST and you can share daily if you want. Good luck!

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