Trouble Blows West by Monique Bucheger – Blog Tour


When Monique isn’t writing, you can find her playing taxi driver to one or more of her 12 children, plotting her next novel, scrapbooking, or being the “Mamarazzi” at any number of child-oriented events. 

Even though she realizes there will never be enough hours in any given day, Monique tries very hard to enjoy the journey that is her life. She shares it with a terrific husband, her dozen children, twelve grand-darlings, too many cats, and many real and imaginary friends. She is the author of several books in three series and hopes to write many more.

  
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Putting her body in motion before her brain is in gear creates a mountain of problems for 12 year-old Ginnie West. She is certain that defending her twin brother, Toran, from the biggest bully in sixth grade was the right thing to do. But Ginnie couldn’t be more wrong.    
She quickly figures out that Toran doesn’t appreciate being rescued by a girl any better than Pierce likes being knocked down by one. When Pierce seeks revenge on Ginnie, Toran sets aside his anger and helps her plot a playback prank at Pierce’s house.  
Sadly, Ginnie learns that Pierce has a reason for being a bully when she sees his dad drop him to the floor like a ragdoll with one awful blow to the chest. Realizing he’s a boy in big trouble, Ginnie switches gears and decides to be his ally, even if he won’t let her be his friend.

What reviewers are saying about this book:
*Like Anne of “Anne of Green Gables,” Ginnie is a character you can’t help but love.

*I couldn’t put these books down. I was not only entertained, but inspired.

* An excellent book that deals with the sensitive topics of bullying, abuse and forgiveness. It is action packed and full of raw emotions.

*Bucheger does an amazing job of writing this story but without giving a cookie cutter answer to the problems Ginnie faces. 



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Top Ten List Ten fun facts about the book: Trouble Blows West 1) Ginnie's teacher, Mrs. Johnson, is based on my high school creative writing teacher, Mrs. Marion Joyce Johnson. 2) Mrs. Johnson, my teacher, is the mother of astronaut Gregory H. Johnson– he piloted the Space Shuttle Endeavor twice. 3) Colonel Gregory H. Johnson read Trouble Blows West and wrote a Foreword for it. 4) Heart of the Wests (Ginnie's home) is a real place in Ohio. 5) The blonde girl on the cover (Gracie–who is modeling for Ginnie) lives in the real West Farmhouse. 6) The brunette girl on the cover (Jessie–who is modeling for Tillie)–is Gracie's cousin in real life. 7) There are real goats, chickens, cattle, dogs, cats, turkeys, ducks on the real West farm–but NO horses. 8) I spent a lot of time at the "real Wests" farm–as a teenager–babysitting the kids that lived there–especially Gracie and Jessie's dads–and their aunt. 9) Gracie and Jessie's cousins grew up on a different farm I mention in the books: Chandler's Crossing–Toran and Ginnie's friend, Austin's home. 10) I raised a lamb named Appomattox (because I was fascinated with the Civil War) on the real West farm and showed it at the county fair as a teen.
ON THE WAY TO THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE: When Tillie shook her head, returned the smile, and then rolled her eyes, Ginnie knew she had done her job and reassured her best friend. She turned back to Pierce. His eyes bore through her. “This ain’t the end of this,” he hissed. His chin wiggled as his face grew more purple, a bit like an eggplant, but not so attractive. His cheeks were as wide as his face was long, like an overblown balloon. Ginnie whipped her head toward him, sending her blonde braids flying. “For your sake, it better be, Pierce Owens, ’cuz there’s only two ways this ends. I knock you on your can again or you beat up a girl. Neither way looks good—for you.”
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What She Left Behind by Author Rebecca Caswell – Book Blitz




In life we are blessed to have those who we love. Those we depend on. Those whose very existence proved to help to shape and form us into the very person we are. But what happens when you lose someone whose light, love, and strength brought so much significance and guidance to your life? How do families navigate through the pain of losing a mentor, mother, wife, and friend? What happens as the family dynamics begin to change and shift? After our lives are turned upside down do we ever find ourselves back to a new normal? What She Left Behind is a deep emotional journey that takes you into the abyss of love and loss. It is a memoir of a fight with grief. It takes you down a winding personal account of tragic events and one woman’s struggle to find who she really is without the love and strength of her mother. Caught between holding on and letting go, she attempts to weed through the pain and trails that the family faces. This is a story about finding our way out of the depths of heartache and the redemptive way we find ourselves back home.

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Rebecca Caswell is a writer living in the beautiful foothills of the Rocky Mountains of Wyoming. She is a joy-filled wife and mother of three. When Rebecca is not writing, she runs a salon and furniture renovating business called Teal House Beauty Lounge.


What She Left Behind is Rebecca’s first book. She wrote it hoping to help others cope with the profound losses that we all must face.  









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Snippet:

All seemed well. Holding the mug of coffee between my hands, I brought it closer. I felt the steam of freshly brewed coffee travel to my senses. Watching the steam rise, I blew softly and took in that first glorious sip, always delighting in the sweetness. I drink my coffee with one drop of milk and five scoops of sugar. Don’t judge me. I am a bit of a sugar addict. Setting it down, I lit a cigarette and scrolled through my messages. I needed to call Dad back, I think. So I clicked on his voicemail. I never did this. I usually skipped the voicemail and just went straight to calling back. But something urged me to listen to it first. I’m sure it’s of no urgency, convinced that you only needed a haircut. But still, I felt the need to hear it first.



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The Four Profound Weaves by R. B. Lemberg

Wind: To match one’s body with one’s heart
Sand: To take the bearer where they wish
Song: In praise of the goddess Bird
Bone: To move unheard in the night

The Surun’ nomads do not speak of the master weaver, Benesret, who creates the cloth of bone for assassins in the Great Burri Desert. But aged Uiziya must find her aunt in order to learn the final weave, although the price for knowledge may be far too dear to pay.

Among the Khana in the springflower city of Iyar, women travel in caravans to trade, while men remain in the inner quarter, as scholars. A nameless man struggles to embody Khana masculinity, after many years of performing the life of a woman, trader, wife, and grandmother.

As his past catches up, the nameless man must choose between the life he dreamed of and Uiziya—while Uiziya must discover how to challenge the evil Ruler of Iyar, and to weave from deaths that matter.

In this breathtaking debut set in R. B. Lemberg’s beloved Birdverse, The Four Profound Weaves offers a timeless chronicle of claiming one’s identity in a hostile world.

About the Birdverse:

The Birdverse is the creation of fantasy author R. B. Lemberg. It is a complex, culturally diverse world, with a range of LGBTQIA characters and different family configurations. Named after its deity, Bird, Birdverse shorter works have been nominated the Nebula, Hugo, Tiptree award, and Rhysling awards. The Four Profound Weaves is the first full-length work set in the Birdverse.BIOGRAPHYR. B. Lemberg is a queer, bigender immigrant from Eastern Europe and Israel. Their stories and poems have appeared in Lightspeed Magazine’s Queers Destroy Science Fiction!,  Beneath Ceaseless SkiesUncanny MagazineSisters of the Revolution: A Feminist Speculative Fiction Anthology, and many other venues. R.B.’s work has been a finalist for the Nebula, Crawford, and other awards. You can find more of their work on their Patreon (patreon.com/rblemberg) and a full bio at rblemberg.net

AUTHOR LINKS

Website: http://roselemberg.net/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RB_Lemberg

EXCERPT

Everybody seemed to have gone to the trading tents, and so I made my way there as well. I was hoping to see my grandchildren, always too busy those days to spend time with me. It was true that I did not want to be trading, but if someone was trading, Aviya for sure would be there.

The trading tents were open to the air, supported with carved poles to which the lightweight cloths of the roof attached festive woven ribbons. People milled under these awnings, mostly women—Surun’ weavers of all ages, each with a carpet or carpets for sale; and a few of their beloved snakes. The crowd parted as I entered, and in that moment my fears came true.

Three men stood in the middle of the trading tent. They had the gold rods of trade, and gold coins sewn onto the trim of their red felt hats. The men’s eyes shone; their dark beards were groomed and oiled, and adorned with the tiniest bells that shook and jingled as they bent over the wares. I sensed powerful magic from all three of them. Their magic – multiple short deepnames – shone in their minds, each deepname like a flaring, spiky star. I was powerful myself, but the strangers’ power was that of capturing, of imprisonment, of destruction, held tightly at bay. The vision made me recoil. These men—and it was always men—belonged to the Ruler of Iyar. The Collector.

I had been living here for three months with my grandchildren, among our friends the snake-Surun’. Almost three months after my transformation, my ceremony of change. I thought I had finally broken free from Iyar. But now Iyar came here.

My Surun’ friends did not seem to feel any danger. They brought forth carpet after carpet, traditional indigo weaves embroidered with lions, with snakes, with birds, and more modern designs of dyed madder and bold geometric shapes. The Iyari traders examined the offerings one by one yet chose nothing, their faces still with masked disgust.

I wanted to shout at my friends to stop this trade. I wanted to run away, to escape unseen. I wanted to fight, to strike at these men, to demand recompense for all the wrongs the Collector inflicted upon me and mine forty years ago.

But then I saw my granddaughter.

Aviya-nai-Bashri was dressed in her trading best—a matching shirt and voluminous pants of green and pink cloth that contrasted so beautifully with her smooth brown skin. Her fish earrings, fashioned of hammered silver, chimed in tune with her words. Her Surun’ friends, all girls of nineteen and twenty, milled around, giggling with excitement.

“We offer a carpet of wind,” Aviya nai-Bashri all but sang, “A cloth woven of purest wind caught wandering over the desert—a treasure like this you will never see . . .”

The carpet she offered was small and exquisite, made from the tiniest movements of air that come awake, breath after breath, as the dawn tints the desert pink and silver. The threads that made the carpet were delicate flurries of blue not so much woven but whispered into cloth, convinced to come together by the magic of deepnames and laughter.

I’d never seen this weave, but knew who made it. My youngest grandchild. Something like tears welled in my eyes, but I would not allow myself that emotion. I looked around instead, and yes, I saw Kimi, a child of twelve, dancing between two guardian snakes. Kimi laughed, and a flurry of pink butterflies shook themselves loose from the carpet of wind. They sparkled in the air for a moment, then winked out of sight, delicate like my grandchild’s magic.

I remembered Uiziya’s words, spoken to me before my ceremony. The first of the Four Profound Weaves is woven from wind. It signifies change.

Buy Links:

https://tachyonpublications.com/product/four-profound-weaves-the/
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-four-profound-weaves-r-b-lemberg/1133609331?ean=9781616963347
https://www.amazon.com/Four-Profound-Weaves-Birdverse-Book/dp/1616963344/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=9781616963347&qid=1569519005&sr=8-1

https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Four-Profound-Weaves/R-B-Lemberg/9781616963347?id=7925926727075

https://www.powells.com/book/four-profound-weaves-a-birdverse-book-9781616963347

The Last To Know by Jo Furniss – Book Review

The Last To Know is an interesting mystery from the pen of author Jo Furniss. She is an experienced journalist who travelled across the world and maybe that’s why she could write this story so well. 

Rose is from America and her husband Dylan is from England. They decide to move to Dylan’s homeland which is a beautiful village called Hurtwood. The family mansion is on the top of the hill with nothing nearby except for the river flowing by. Rose finds it greatly difficult to adjust to this new place and especially can’t trust her mother-in-law who seems to be a little forgetful, reclusive and secretive.

The family name of Dylan, Kynaston seems to be a dreadful thing to say among the villagers. Rose has no idea why it is that the villagers stare at her and why they whisper as soon as she enters any place. Some secret which is more than twenty years old seems to be the key to all that is happening around. 

Sergeant Ellie takes up the investigation of the remains of the human body that is accidentally found down the hill, during an archaeological tv show. Ellie is determined to solve the case, no matter what.Rose on the other hand starts her own investigation in order to find out the truth behind all this and when Dylan becomes a suspect, Rose puts forth her best efforts to clear his name. 

The entire story is very gripping and I’m in love with all the female characters. Rose, Elllie and to my surprise, Rose’s mother-in-law are incredibly strong women. 

The village set up of Hurtwood is incredibly beautiful. The family mansion of Dylan, the outhouse, the hill, the river, everything is described in great detail by the author. I, literally, was transported to the village while I read the book. Loved it, absolutely.

The book is out now, go ahead, buy it and dive into this gripping mystery.

Charlock’s Secret by Leah Moyes – Book Release Blitz





Leah Moyes is from the sunny state of Arizona. She is a wife and a mother, a former teacher, and a coach with a background in Archaeology. She loves popcorn and seafood (though not together) and is slowly checking off her very long bucket list.  




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Desperate to hide, Kat flees. Now, trapped in time, her survival and return are threatened by her tortured heart.
Ensnared by hopelessness and grief, twenty-four-year-old Kat Shelton accepts a position as the curator of an old English estate with the sole purpose of running away from her memories and to bury life’s pain.

What she finds on her journey is much more than she bargained for—an arrogant employer, patronizing staff, and a chaotic system to name a few. Then to top it all off, an unforeseen tumble down the antiquated cellar steps brings her to a sudden halt.

Waking up in the year 1878, and mistaken for the children’s new governess, Kat scrambles to navigate nineteenth-century British lifestyle and culture. An impossible feat if it weren’t for the help of the Gilford girls and their charming and handsome brother, Merritt.


Will Kat find the strength, love and forgiveness she yearns for in the past? Or will her path bring her back to the reality she fears?

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Snippet:

“Katharine,” Lizzy continued, “these are a few of Merritt’s former classmates from Oxford. Each one has agreed to be your escort for a set.”
A cough camouflaged my gasps as I reached for her wrist, followed by a pathetic “excuse me” before I towed her away. Through the hall, we ended in the quiet solitude of the library. Fortunately, we were alone.
“What is the cause of this inconvenience?” She cried. Anger formed on her brow, possibly mixed with the heat of humiliation.
“Lizzy!” I wrung my hands together. “I—I . . .”
“What?” She demanded.
“I don’t know if I can do this . . .”
“Do what?” She shouted with frustration. I met her eyes pleadingly but struggled to share the actual reason for my panic. “What Katharine?” She repeated indignantly.
I bit the inside of my cheek and forced the tears to stop.
“Katharine!”
“I don’t know how to dance!”
The room fell silent. The red in her face vanished as she chuckled.
“Are you jesting?” She waited for me to confirm the joke.
“No.” I put my hands to my cheeks and dropped to the nearest sofa, defeated. 



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