Category: book tour

Druid’s Portal: The First Journey by Cindy Tomamichel Genre: Time Travel Romance, Historical Fantasy

A portal closed for 2,000 years.An ancient religion twisted by modern greed.A love that crosses the centuries. An ancient druid pendant shows archaeologist Janet visions of Roman soldier Trajan. The visions are of danger, death, and love—but are they a promise or a curse? Her fiancé Daman abandons her before the wedding, her beloved museum is ransacked, and a robed man vanishes before her eyes. Haunted by visions of a time she knows long gone, Janet teeters on the edge of a breakdown. In the shadow of Hadrian’s Wall and 2,000 years back in time, Janet’s past and present collide. Daman has vowed to drive the invaders from the shores of Britain and march his barbarian hordes to Rome. Trajan swears vengeance against the man who threatens both his loves—Janet and the Empire. Time is running out—for everyone. Goodreads * Amazon

Druid’s Portal : The Second Journey

A love that can never be. Ethan—latest guardian of the Arwen pendant—finds his heritage of time travel a burden he can scarcely endure. Rowena—last of the line of Daman—is a soldier in the Celtic army, forced to perform deeds that haunt her. Both tormented by visions of the other, separated by barriers of time. A time that should not exist. Rowena flees the catastrophic end of her time but is trapped by an ancient family pact with an evil goddess. Desperate to save her, Ethan crosses over into her timeline, where his parents never met, and Daman—their greatest enemy—rules. The past is ruled by a man who knows the future. Thirty days to stop a goddess taking over her body. Thirty days to save his timeline. Together they will fight their way through an altered history to the dark past of Stonehenge. But time is running out—for everyone. Goodreads * Amazon

Cindy Tomamichel is a multi-genre writer. Escape the everyday with time travel action adventure novels, scifi and fantasy stories or tranquil scenes for relaxation. Find a world where the heroines don’t wait to be rescued, and the heroes earn that title the hard way. The Druid’s Portal series is a genre blend of action, adventure, romance, time travel and magical historical fantasy set in Roman Britain. Website * Newsletter * Facebook * Twitter * InstagramPinterest * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Druid’s Portal: The Second Journey
Then a sound… soft laughter… and he gazed at the woman with hair the colour of
moonlight and eyes as dark as the night. Coloured mist wrapped around her, tight woven as
destiny. Dark threads of death and red banners of danger – all centred around and surrounding
the woman.
His love.
She filled a hole in his heart he had always known was there, but had never known the
shape of it was her. The sense of completeness hit him like a blow.

“I will find you… ” he shouted as she faded. “I will protect you, always… ”
But she was gone, leaving nothing but a ghostly fragrance of flowers, and he was alone
once more.

#

She staggered, feeling dizzy. The pendant felt so heavy, too heavy for its size, and she
clutched the desk as the room spun around her. She blinked as a grey mist blurred her vision,
and then blinked again. In the grey mist stood a man, a stranger, but she felt she knew him. He
was tall and solid with muscle, his dark red-black hair grew past his shoulders, and his leaf
green eyes looked at her. Straight at her. There was no doubt he saw her. She stretched out a
hand to him as he did the same, yet between them was a barrier she could not breach. Standing
like sentinels around him were trees larger than she had ever seen. She gasped, and deep into
her lungs rushed the smell of old forests, the mustiness of time measured in centuries, and the
coppery taste of blood.
The mist swirled, and she clung tightly to the desk. He was the vision of a moment, but
there was a bond between them she could not deny.
He vanished, and all she was left with was a tangle of impressions.
Death and danger came with this man.
Yet also love.
How could such things be?

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Written in the Stars Fallen Eagles MC Series Book 2 by T. Birmingham Genre: MC Romantic Suspense

In the small town of Golden Trail, PA, the Fallen Eagles MC isn’t just any group of veterans. They’re patrons of the community, the protectors of veterans and townsfolk alike, and a motley group of world military-trained men and women. And their small town isn’t afraid to call on the varied skills of this rough and ready crew to help out on a case or two. Summer brought us blackmail. Winter will bring us murder. With a Philly-based serial murderer on the loose, and the most recent victim a member of their small town, the Fallen Eagles MC will deal with one of the hardest cases they’ve ever encountered. Davis “Eagle” Landon has given a lot for his country—an eye, a leg, time with his kids. He’s retired now and as the owner of several small businesses and the founder and President of the Fallen Eagles MC, this former Texan has his roots firmly planted. He’s ready to settle down again, and only one woman will do. Winter is different. A bit of a loner. Quiet. Sarcastic. She’s also the owner of the one and only full-service salon in Golden Trail and has an amazingly supportive family and a close-knit group of friends who love her for the odd woman she’s molded herself into. She still feels like there’s something missing, though. As the youngest Markham, she’s seen the many struggles her older sisters have endured, and as much as the prospect scares her, she wants a love that is all her own. The problem? Nosy sisters, a murderer killing women who fit her description, and the guy she loves is a good twelve years older and way out of her league. Eagle and Winter have a tough road ahead, but what these two are about to realize is that not even death can separate two souls who are f**cking written in the stars. *Full-length novel Trigger Warning: This book contains scenes of violence/sexual violence/gore that may be difficult for some readers. Goodreads * Amazon

A Terrible Beauty Fallen Eagles MC Series Book 1

In the small town of Golden Trail, PA, the Fallen Eagles MC isn’t just any group of veterans. They’re patrons of the community, the protectors of veterans and townsfolk alike, and a motley group of world military-trained men and women. And their small town isn’t afraid to call on the varied skills of this rough and ready crew to help out on a case or two. Ten years ago, Kit Markham left her high school sweetheart, Lee Devereaux, behind to serve her country. The woman who returns is just a shadow of her former self. She might be the kickass Second of the Fallen Eagles MC, but she’s also damaged—and it’s an unbearable struggle at times, just to make it through the day. The only things that help are her veteran MC, the Fallen Eagles, her family, and long, quiet rides on the back of Lee’s bike. Lee has his own share of war wounds, but none worse than the burden he’s taken on to see that the Kit he once knew finds herself again. It’s been over two years since she returned home, and Lee still can’t find the girl he once loved in the woman who’s become so lost. He’s had it with being kept in the dark. He’s demanding answers—but he’s not the only one who’s interested in Kit’s past. When local soldiers, veterans, and their families start getting threats from a team of blackmailers, Kit’s shocking history is revealed. A twist that has Lee reeling and wondering if what they once had is even salvageable. *Novella Length: 31,000 words Trigger Warning: This book contains situations of sexual abuse/assault/war violence that may be difficult for some readers. Goodreads * Amazon

T. Birmingham believes words are our greatest form of magic. And making magic is what she loves best. But when it’s time to put the words aside, T. enjoys drinking whiskey with her tribe, eating pretzels with Nutella, watching and reading as many stories as she can, especially romances, and traveling wherever the wind takes her-sometimes all at once. She also loves a sturdy (but cute) pair of cowgirl boots, is hoping to one day build a log cabin with her Man Bear, and she writes mystery and suspense in the Paranormal, Contemporary, and MC Romance genres. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Silent River by C.M. Weaver Genre: Psychological Thriller

A gripping psychological thriller inspired by true events. Robert Collins is Portland’s best investigative detective. When the Stevens family goes missing, he goes to work. As he uncovers clues the family may have been targeted for a professional hit by organized crime, it gets personal. Too personal. Can he face down his inner demons before he loses himself? He confronts the mob and police bureaucracy to find the missing family. Jake, partner and friend, thinks he’s spiraling into obsession, when Robert’s taken off the case but refuses to give up the investigation. Can he get past this shameless tragedy and his own past to move on with his life? Silent River is a fictionalized version of a real investigation in the late 1950s in Portland, Oregon, a time when money and power ruled the city. This story will appeal to fans of true crime and detective fiction alike. Readers who enjoy Ann Rule, Rex Stout, and Mary Higgins Clark will love CM Weaver. Goodreads * Amazon

I live and work in the Pacific Northwest. I’m married and take care of a challenged rescue dog, Ariel. I love writing, but don’t write in one particular genre. I do gravitate more to mysteries as I’m always asking “What if?” Amazon * Goodreads

CHAPTER 1
Detective Robert Collins absently swigged the lukewarm coffee that he’d bought on his way to work that
morning. A few officers sat at their desks. Monday mornings usually weren’t this quiet.
He pushed open the door to his office. He detested the institutional green walls. His desk was falling apart, no
matter how many times he nailed and glued the drawers back together. He threw his coat at the stand along
with his hat. It slid on the curled wood and stayed. The hat twirled but remained in its place. Robert didn’t
bother to watch as he sat the cup on the stained desk and gingerly sat in the wooden, rolling, office chair. It
hated him and had dumped him on the floor a few times.
His inbox overflowed with reports for follow-up and notes on cases he needed to read. There were times when
he wished he had a regular nine-to-five job, and this was one of those times. He’d pulled an all-nighter last
night, and the subject of the stakeout had played him like a cat with a toy mouse.
The sound of taps on leather shoes echoed as it moved toward his office. The announcement of Nate Polentti
was not a welcome sound to Robert. He cringed as the tapping stopped at his door.
“So, you and Jake got some “prime beef” last night.” Nate’s nasal tone grated on his nerves. “Why do you
guys seem to get all the bribes? Oh, that’s right, you two passed through the cleanup with flying colors. Makes
a person think now, doesn’t it? You made front page news. I wonder how my uncle, Chief Gilmore, is going to
take this.” Nate gave a dry laugh as he slapped the newspaper down in front of Robert. The tapping seemed
more pronounced as Nate walked away.
The paper unfolded, allowing Robert to see a large picture, above the fold, of an unmarked police car. The
driver’s arm rested on the frame of the open window. Thankfully, it was just an arm, he thought. He looked
closer at the grainy picture. The prime target of the photographer centered on the person in the background. A
white-jacketed waiter walked away from the car, balancing a tray that bore the remains of two sumptuous
dinners.
The headline read: Are There Still Cops on the Take? The article stated that two police officers were seen
eating prime rib dinners provided by a known mob leader who had arrived in Portland to possibly open a
casino in the area.
The phone rang. Robert fumbled around under the paper until he found the receiver. He answered, not taking
his eyes from the article.
“Collins here.”
“Robert, we got a call for you to report to Stan.” The dispatcher gave the address. He pulled a pen and pad
from his pocket and jotted down the information. As if it were one complete motion, he jammed his long arms
into the sleeves of his coat, positioned his fedora over his dark blond crew cut, and hurried through the office.
In the car, he turned the key and pressed the gas pedal. He headed down Alder Street to Sandy. Following
Sandy Boulevard, the traffic kept him to the speed limit, and the drive to Fifty-Seventh Avenue took a little
longer than usual. He’d hit the end of the rush hour and everyone heading to work. He poked down the street,
looking for the address he’d been given.
The houses were well kept. Robert saw people milling on the sidewalks ahead and parked behind a squad car.
He looked at the situation and didn’t see anything that would need a gun drawn, so he got out and slid his hat
in place, running his fingers along the brim. He made his way through the crowd of people the officers tried to
keep on their front lawns.
“Hey, what’s happened?” a reporter called out. “Who’s missing?”
“Stan!” Robert called to a man just going up the front steps of the house.
“Took you long enough,” Stan taunted.
“Took you long enough to call. Couldn’t handle it on your own?”
“I thought you should earn some of those taxpayers’ dollars instead of just reading the sports pages at your
desk on Monday morning.”
“Yeah, well, thanks. What have we got here?” He followed Stan into the living room. A man and a woman sat
on the couch talking to one of the officers.
“This is Tom and Maggie Borman. She claims something happened to her brother and his family.” Stan
consulted his black book, “A Karl and Debra Stevens and their three girls. Mrs. Borman, this is Detective
Robert Collins. Would you tell him what you told me?”
Maggie Borman wore a beige sweater over a plaid shirt and pleated brown skirt. Her salt-and-pepper hair was
pulled into a French roll at the back of her head. She was in her late forties; her brows were furrowed over her
brown eyes.
She wrung her hands as she talked. “I called yesterday afternoon to talk to Debra, but they weren’t home. I
kept calling until almost midnight. When I got up this morning, I tried again, but there was still no answer. We

came over here and because I have a key for emergencies, we went in to check. I didn’t find anything missing
or any reason they wouldn’t have come home last night.” Her voice broke, and she began to cry.
“Was the lock forced?” Robert asked Stan.
“No, and we couldn’t find any of the windows forced open either. Everything is locked up tight.”
“Can you give me their names, ages, and descriptions?” he turned to the woman.
“Karl Stevens is my brother; he is fifty-four. Debra, his wife, is forty-eight. Kelly is fourteen; Darla is twelve,
and Sara is ten years old.” Tom spoke the names while Maggie filled in the ages.
“Do you have any idea what they might have been wearing?” Robert asked.
“No, I can only guess. I know that Debra would have been wearing a dress, and the girls were probably
wearing pedal pushers, shirts, and maybe either a sweater or a jacket.”
“Is there anyone they might have gone to visit? Someone they spent the night with? There has been some
snow up the Columbia River Gorge.” Robert directed the questions, while Stan stood to one side looking at his
notepad and adding any details he hadn’t thought to ask.
Maggie shook her head. “They would have called me,” she muttered into her handkerchief.
When Maggie could not continue, Robert left them in Stan’s care and walked through the house. He watched a
team of men search for any clues. The house was clean, but the Sunday paper lay on the side table, as if Mr.
Stevens had just put the sections down after reading them. The comic pages had been divided, and some were
on the floor while others were folded on the coffee table.
The kitchen had been used, for breakfast dishes soaked in oily water.
He opened the fridge, but there was no roast waiting to be put in the oven. His mom liked to have a roast
cooking when they came home after church. He took a deep breath, remembering the smell that greeted the
family as they all trooped through the door after the church service. This family either ate before going to
church or didn’t go that Sunday. What would cause this family to skip church?
Taking a quick look in the bedrooms upstairs, he saw the parent’s bedroom. No clothes lying around; the items
on the vanity were lined up on the runner. A quick check in the closet revealed no suitcases; he’d check the
hall closet later. The next door down the short hall had the name “Kelly” written on a card tacked to the door.
Inside, there wasn’t anything out of place—too neat for a teenager. He stepped inside. The bed had perfect
hospital corners, the books so neat they were aligned by height. With his pen, he hooked the desk drawer and
pulled it open. All the pens and pencils were in neat rows, small to large, sharpened to a point.
He looked for any notes she might have left, but the notepad was blank. He would have the guys bag it and
bring it to him at the office, along with her schoolbag.
All the drawers held her clothes neatly folded in vertical stacks. Robert opened the closet door to see dresses,
blouses, and skirts hanging in even spaces. She must have been obsessive about her room, which wasn’t
normal in his book. He had no sisters, but he did have a brother who would sleep in and on his clothes. He
backed out of the door, taking one more look at the dresser, small desk, bed, and night table with a single
lamp.
Two cards with “Sara” and “Darla” printed on them were stuck to the next door. The beds were made, but not
as neatly as Kelly’s. A wicker basket of folded clothes sat on each bed, ready to be put away. A bookshelf held
books and games stuffed haphazardly on the shelves, some of the pieces falling out of the half-closed boxes.
Schoolbags in this room peeked out from under the beds, nothing out of the ordinary.
He opened the last door in the hallway and found a stairway to the attic. A door at the top was closed but it
opened when he turned the knob. A bedroom. He sniffed. A boy’s room. Perhaps a boarder? A single bed with
a quilt over it, a short dresser, a chair, and an empty closet. He turned and went down the stairs. 6

Back on the main floor, he made a note that there was no sign of a struggle and no note left on the pad near the
phone or on the refrigerator, where most people would leave one if they were going out of town.
In the basement, he touched the sawdust furnace. Still warm, even though the fire was out. It must have been
going for quite a while before the fire died from lack of fuel. Robert judged it to have been out about four or
five hours.
In the living room, the Christmas tree was decorated, a Santa suit lay neatly over a chair, and a bag of candy
canes lay right next to it. A few Christmas decorations adorned the windows. Probably done by the girls, he
thought. It was December 7, 1958, and Christmas was just around the corner. Not a time for a family to go
missing. The Bormans remained on the couch, watching the officers.
“Mrs. Borman, who else might have a key to the house?”
“No one that I know of, but anyone could get in, the back door is never locked.”
Robert frowned; he turned and walked back to the kitchen. Maggie stood and followed him. He stood looking
at the lock, a standard, turn knob with a button-slide, locking mechanism. Maggie reached past him toward the
knob. Robert pushed her hand down, intercepting her reach.
“What!?” Maggie gasped.
“Fingerprints. If this door is normally unlocked, someone locked it. We will need to fingerprint the lock. We’ll
need your prints to disqualify you, and we’ll have the others in the house. Anyone different, we will need to
question them. I’m sorry I startled you.”
“That’s okay.”
He met Stan on the porch.
“What do you think?” Stan asked.
“Mrs. Borman said they never went anywhere overnight that they didn’t notify her first. It’s possible this
might be the exception. Let’s question the neighbors and see what comes up.”
“I have a team already on it, though we are shorthanded if you want to help out.”
“Always ready to help, after all, this could be my department—homicide.”
Robert talked to the occupants in the house next to the Stevens and one person across the street. None had seen
anything that morning or the day before. One family had been gone all day, and the other had sick children
and hadn’t been outside.
~~~
“Hey, Robert, the chief wants you in his office right away.” Deputy Nate’s grin almost wrapped around his
head as he made the announcement.
Robert ground his teeth and nodded at the young man. The kid must have his ear on the phone every moment.
At the office of Chief Arnold Gilmore, better known as Arnie, he rapped his knuckles firmly and waited for an
answer.
“Come in,” the gruff voice called out.
Robert opened the door, but the chief was on the phone. The man waved him to a seat across from him and
finished his conversation.
“Good to see you, Collins. What are you working on right now?” Chief Gilmore had a balding, round head
with a few wisps of white hair that grew near his left ear and were pasted across the top of his head almost to
his right ear. He had a barrel of a chest and a stomach that overshot his belt buckle if he had one on. He wore
wide suspenders that crossed over at his shoulder blades.
“The usual, sir. Following mob bosses who show up in our city and have to submit to their haranguing the
department to the media, who then make us look like fools.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice,
but he was sure the irony was not lost on the chief.
Arnie laughed. “Yes, I saw your picture in the paper this morning. Was that your arm or Jake’s?”
“Mine, sir.”
“Don’t worry about it. The hoopla’s over. The man you were watching was here to put a deal together to buy a
plot of land on Sauvie Island. He planned to build a casino here. Wanted to build a little Las Vegas.” Robert
frowned and leaned closer to ask if that had happened. Arnie continued. “No, it didn’t happen. It’s rained here
for the past two weeks. The area he wanted to see is flooded with about a foot of water. He’d been heard to
say, ‘Who would want to live in this godforsaken place, much less want to visit here?’ He had his dinner
Sunday night with his boys and now is probably back in sunny Las Vegas.”
“For once, thank goodness for our rain.” Robert sighed.
“Yes, that might be true, but a casino would have brought in jobs and money to the community.”
Robert schooled his expression. He was against legalizing gambling. It was bad enough they had their own
little organized crime gang running the city.
“Jobs. Yes, we would have had to hire more men, build bigger jails, and then you would have another corrupt

department to clean up.”
This time Robert didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm. “Yes, we can be thankful that it isn’t going to happen. One
cleanup was enough. I never want to go through that again.”
Robert had just become a deputy when someone sent large envelopes to the governor, the Oregonian, and the
Journal. Inside were pictures, dates, and the names of cops who were on the take. The photos were so
incriminating that there was nothing left for the governor to do but initiate a city-wide sweep. There were still
officers and high officials who were on trial.
“Robert, I want you to work with Stan on this missing persons case. He specifically asked for you. You file a
report regularly. That’s all.” Chief Gilmore dismissed Robert.
Walking down the hall to his office, Robert glanced at the men working. He wondered what they thought
when they weren’t buried in police procedures. He’d felt some of their gazes as he passed them, conversations
that suddenly stopped or seemed to change.
After the chief called them all in for a meeting and said there were going to be changes, he’d been
apprehensive. He liked the chief and thought he did a good job. Then half the department disappeared. Older
officers retired early or asked for a transfer. Some were indicted with criminal charges and the few left, like
Jake Monroe, his friend, walked softly around some of those who remained. Not all of them agreed with the
chief but knew their jobs were a thin line from being terminated.

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Nothing About Us Without Us: The Adventures of the Cartoon Republican Army by David Perlmutter Genre: Fantasy

Anybody who loves animated cartoons should be interested in knowing the truth about them. Which is that they have lives after the camera stops filming, and pretty interesting ones at that. This book will give you the truth about who they are and what they feel, direct from their lips. Particularly about how the leaders of the world want them out of the way, for good…. Goodreads * Amazon

David Perlmutter is a freelance writer based in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. He is the author of America Toons In: A History of Television Animation (McFarland and Co.), The Singular Adventures Of Jefferson Ball (Amazon Kindle/Smashwords), The Pups (Booklocker.com), Certain Private Conversations and Other Stories (Aurora Publishing), Honey and Salt (Scarlet Leaf Publishing), Orthicon; or, the History of a Bad Idea (Linkville Press, forthcoming), The Encyclopedia of American Animated Television Shows (Rowman and Littlefield) and Nothing About Us Without Us (Amazon Kindle Direct Prime). His short stories can be read on Curious Fictions at Curious Fictions/David Perlmutter. He can be reached on Facebook at David Perlmutter-Writer, Twitter at @DKPLJW1, and Tumblr at The Musings of David Perlmutter (yesdavidperlmutterfan). Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads

It was footage from some sort of clandestine religious service. A Southern accented voice was
declaiming about how cartoon characters were an “abomination”, how they had “sinned” against the
world of the human beings, and how they and their works and deeds deserved to be “destroyed” to
protect the humans from any sort of divine retribution from occurring to them. Then the camera panned
over to a giant pile of TV animation DVDs, T shirts and other paraphernalia, which the Southern
accented man, a tall, gaunt and white bearded fellow, then proceeded to set on fire!

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Texas Trouble Lone Star Book 2 by Gerry Bartlett Genre: Romantic Suspense

Scarlett Hall followed a job and a friend to Texas, but that cost her more than she’d bargained for. Now, wounded but determined to get past one of the worst days of her life, she decides she has to pull herself together. First step: cover up the physical scars left from her ordeal. That’s easy. But the emotional scars are proving harder to handle. Then she meets Ethan Calhoun. This bad boy seems ready to make his own changes and might be just what she needs to start a new chapter in her life. When he offers her a job as manager of his new bar, she decides to go for it. A change of pace and a hot guy who makes her forget her troubles while she’s in his arms are a great cure. But it soon becomes clear that danger will be in Scarlett’s life no matter how many changes she makes. As Scarlett comes face to face with her worst nightmare, it seems happiness was just an illusion. Maybe Texas is just too much trouble. Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Texas Lightning Lone Star Book 1

A million-dollar idea. A city girl in the country. And a man who brings out her wild side… Anna Delaney is thrilled to leave Boston for Austin, Texas, when her small tech company is bought out by a conglomerate. Born into a family of over-protective brothers, this is her chance at true independence—and a name-making professional breakthrough. Even when gorgeous billionaire rancher King Sanders forms a one-man welcoming committee, Anna insists that she doesn’t need a tour guide—or another bodyguard. But after she narrowly escapes a kidnapping attempt, she can’t say no to King spiriting her away to someplace safe…and very private. Someone wants the valuable software Anna’s developing, and King is determined to keep her safe until the culprit is caught. The hunky cowboy lights her up brighter than the Lone Star sky at night, but neither one of them is prepared for just how wild Texas can get—and just how hard they’re willing to fight to stay together… Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Gerry Bartlett is a native Texan who lives halfway between Houston and Galveston. She has an antique business on the island and in Alvin. When she’s not treasure hunting, she loves heading to the Texas capitol of Austin where she attended the University of Texas. She’s managed to set most of her Real Vampires series there and now a new Lone Star Suspense series, coming in November. She also loves writing about her hometown of Houston in her contemporary Texas Heat series. She lives with Jet, a whippet, who keeps her company when she’s at the computer. Gerry collects cookbooks, but rarely cooks, and little boxes that she brings back from her travels. She also has a weakness for purses and posts pictures of her latest finds on Pinterest. When she has time, Gerry loves to read just about anything with a happy ending. Check out her reviews on Goodreads. This former elementary school teacher is lucky enough to have more than twenty published novels. You can read more about Gerry at http://gerrybartlett.com and sign up for her newsletter there for news and giveaways. There are also dozens of articles for aspiring authors on her website under the Perils of Publishing tab. Once a teacher, always a teacher. Whether it’s contemporary or paranormal, Gerry Bartlett writes romance with a Texas twist. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Breathe. Turn the lock. She flipped the dead bolt and waited. Someone jiggled the knob, but
it held. God. God. She sagged to the floor. Safe. Please let her be safe.
“Are you all right?” A man’s voice came from across the dark room.
No, she was not all right. What had she done? Locked herself in with him. Scarlett searched
for a weapon. Shit. She didn’t even have her shoes.
“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” He was coming closer.
“That’s what they all say.” Scarlett jerked her cell out of her bra. She’d started keeping it
there after the attack. “Don’t come any closer. I’m calling 9-1-1.”
“And say what? That you broke into my bar?” He was too close. He hunkered down in front
of her. “Ethan Calhoun. How can I help you?”
“You own this bar?” Scarlett hit reality. Hard. He was right. What was she doing here? She
tried to catch her breath, her heart stuttering as she looked around. She stared at the long wooden
bar across the room as she tried to regulate her breathing. The room was empty except for the man
who just sat there, still too close. She wanted to shove him away. Common sense finally returned as
she gripped her phone and realized he wasn’t making a move, just staring. Of course, she was
acting crazy.
“Yeah, I do. Something scared you. Do I need to go outside and kick some butt?” He still
hadn’t moved.
Scarlett checked him out. Tall, good-looking, a little young, but not too young. He looked like
he could enjoy some butt kicking but would prefer something more civilized in his vintage rock band
tee and jeans. She waited, still breathing in and out, her heart finally settling down. If he tried
anything that screamed danger, she had her fingers on her phone. But he just sat there, patient and,
damn it, kind. She finally made a decision.
“You can buy me a drink.”
“That I can do.” He stood and held out his hand. “Usually, it’s no shoes, no service, but I’ll
make an exception if you tell me your name.”
“Scarlett Hall.” Scarlett took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.
“I have to warn you, I’m a head case right now.”
“Honey, I’m way too used to those.” He pulled her to the bar, then walked around and put
two glasses in front of her. “Name your poison.”
“Tequila. I’ve had a rough day. Rough month, rough year.” She sighed. “Told you I was
messed up.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place.” Ethan smiled and poured them each a splash of top-
shelf tequila. “I think I’ve lost my mind too. Never owned a bar before. Now here I am probably about
to lose my shirt. Moved to Austin because I loved going to college here. It’s a common thing with
Texas exes.” He picked up his glass, waited for her to pick up hers, then clinked it. “Here’s to crazy.”
“Crazy.” Scarlett threw back the shot. She wasn’t about to turn to alcohol to solve her
problems, but she liked Ethan’s smile and that was a start. She needed her purse and her shoes.
She had to go back and apologize to Casey. And she wanted that damn tattoo. She shook her head
when Ethan offered her a refill.
“No, I’ve got to go back next door.”
“To Casey’s? You getting a tattoo?” Ethan walked her to the door.
“If I can find my nerve.” Scarlett looked around. The only light came from the dusty windows
and a laptop on the bar. No furniture yet, so obviously he wasn’t ready to open.
“Want me to hold your hand?” He grinned.
Scarlett could imagine that. For the first time since the abduction, she didn’t want to throw up
a stop sign as soon as a man showed interest. And Ethan was definitely interested.
“No, thanks. This is something I have to do myself.” She handed him her phone. “Can I call
you if I need moral support?”
“Hell, yes.”

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