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Isn’t It Bromantic–A Review

April 24, 2021 by in category Apples & Oranges by Marianne H. Donley, Book Reviews tagged as , , , , ,

Isn’t it Bromantic
Bromance Book Club 4

Lyssa Kay Adams

Berkley

Available July 20, 2021

978-0593332771

With his passion for romance novels, it was only a matter of time before Vlad wrote one.

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About the Book

Elena Konnikova has lived her entire adult life in the shadows. As the daughter of a Russian journalist who mysteriously disappeared, she escaped danger the only way she knew how: She married her childhood friend, Vladimir, and moved to the United States, where he is a professional hockey player in Nashville.

Vlad, aka the Russian, thought he could be content with his marriage of convenience. But it’s become too difficult to continue in a one-sided relationship. He joined the Bromance Book Club to learn how to make his wife love him, but all he’s learned is that he deserves more. He’s ready to create his own sweeping romance—both on and off the page.

The bros are unwilling to let Vlad forgo true love—and this time they’re not operating solo. They join forces with Vlad’s neighbors, a group of meddling widows who call themselves the Loners. But just when things finally look promising, Elena’s past life intrudes and their happily ever after is cast into doubt.

About the Author

Lyssa Kay Adams is an award-winning journalist who gave up the world of true stories to pen all-the-feels romances featuring sexy heroes and women who always get the last word. Lyssa lives in Michigan with her family and an anxiety-ridden Maltese who steals food and buries it around the house and who will undoubtedly be a character in a future book. Keep up with Lyssa on Twitter at @LyssaKayAdams.


Review

It’s no secret that I have enjoyed all of Lyssa Kay Adams’ book, but I especially love her Bromance Book Club series. They are laugh out loud funny, yet they manage to include complex subjects like failed marriages, sexual harassment, and family secrets. Isn’t It Bromantic is no exception.

Elena and Vlad have a modern marriage of convenience. She wants out and he wants a genuine marriage—what could go wrong?

Elena is wounded but strong. She’s used to being overlooked and ignored. While she’s convinced she doesn’t deserve Vlad, she doesn’t let anyone—not even Vlad walk all over her.

Vlad (also known as the Russian), may be my favorite character in the entire series. He’s just adorable, and he’s writing a romance novel! (I may have cheered when I read the tagline for the book: With his passion for romance novels, it was only a matter of time before Vlad wrote one.) This man seriously believes in romance, and he’s determined to have one of his own.

The Book Club bros, meddling neighbors, and a dog and cat who just show up every day for Vlad’s attention add to the humor. And seriously, the Cheese Man had better get his own book.

Isn’t It Bromantic is smart, heartfelt, and hysterical. You will laugh and cry—sometimes in the same scene. Lyssa hit a grand slam with the fourth installment of her series.

Available July 20, 2021, you can order Isn’t It Bromantic using one of the following Buy Links:

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A DANCE OF WORDS BY VERONICA JORGE

April 22, 2021 by in category Write From the Heart by Veronica Jorge tagged as , , , ,

Veronica Jorge is out of the office this month, so we’re running one of her columns from our archives. Hope you enjoy it!

A Dance of Words | Veronica Jorge | A Slice of Orange

 

Hispanola, which means the “Spanish island,” became the first Spanish settlement in America. It is my mother’s native country and today we know the eastern section of the island as the Dominican Republic; a fertile land abundant in mines and minerals and rich in a great variety of fruits, vegetables, grains, and flowers, where the sun shines brightly year round.

The merengue, the country’s traditional music, embraces you throughout the island for dancing is an entirely social activity independent of holidays or festivals. Any gathering includes dancing because Dominican’s don’t just listen to music, they live it. Emotionally, the merengue celebrates life wherein you partake of the rhythms of love, family and friendship. The most skilled dancer moves in unity with their partner, as one.

My mother, Write from the Heart | Veronica Jorge | A Slice of OrangeCelina Antonia Luna de Jorge, (isn’t that lovely? Like a song in itself), left her beautiful, beloved island, and part of her heart, when she came to America at the age of seventeen. Like most of our ancestors, her family traveled to America in the hope of a better future. I’m happy to say that she found it. (She had me!).

Mom is most fully herself, most fully alive when she is surrounded by her family and cooking us all of the traditional delicious foods of her country. She fills and satisfies us with her peace and joy. And like the savory aromas that waft through the air, she makes our hearts swirl to the rhythms of her warmth and love.

And that’s what I want my writing to be like; a dance of words wherein writer and reader move in sync and taste the flavors of love, friendship, loss and new found purpose, joy and laughter. Writing that, in spite of sorrowful events or hardships, celebrates life and fills the reader with hope that today is indeed worth living.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I love you!

~ Veronica

Veronica will be here next time on May 22nd.

 

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Linda O. Johnston Featured Author

April 21, 2021 by in category Featured Author of the Month tagged as , , , , ,
What Did I Miss? | Linda O. Johnston | A Slice of Orange

Linda O. Johnston enjoys writing, romance, puzzles, and dogs.

A former lawyer, Linda  is now a full-time writer and has published 52 books so far, including mysteries and romantic novels. More than twenty-five of them are romances for Harlequin, including Harlequin Romantic Suspense and Harlequin Nocturne. Her latest release is Colton First Responder for Harlequin Romantic Suspense.

She has also written several mystery series including. The Kendra Ballantyne Pet-Sitter Mysteries, which was a spin-off of the Pet Rescue Mysteries and  The Superstition Mysteries. Pets, especially dogs, frequently show up in Linda’s novels

She is currently writing a lot of books for Harlequin. Three new Harlequin Romantic Suspense books will soon be released. The first up is Her Undercover Refuge in July 2021.

In addition to blogging for A Slice of Orange on the 6th of every month, Linda blogs at Killer Hobbies, Killer Characters, the Midnight Ink authors blog, and Writerspace.

Linda enjoys hearing from readers. Visit her website at www.LindaOJohnston.com or friend her on Facebook.


A Few of Linda’s Many Books

UNDERCOVER COWBOY DEFENDER

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UNDERCOVER COWBOY DEFENDER

SHIELDING COLTON’S WITNESS

Buy now!
SHIELDING COLTON’S WITNESS

HOUNDS ABOUND

Buy now!
HOUNDS ABOUND

THE MORE THE TERRIER

Buy now!
THE MORE THE TERRIER

BEAGLEMANIA

Buy now!
BEAGLEMANIA

GUARDIAN K-9 ON CALL

Buy now!
GUARDIAN K-9 ON CALL

BEAR WITNESS

Buy now!
BEAR WITNESS
UNDERCOVERING COLTON’S FAMILY SECRETS

HER UNDERCOVER REFUGE

Buy now!
HER UNDERCOVER REFUGE
COLTON FIRST RESPONDER (The Coltons of Mustang Valley)

THE SOLDIER’S K-9 MISSION

Buy now!
THE SOLDIER’S K-9 MISSION
COLTON 911: CAUGHT IN THE CROSSFIRE

FOR A GOOD PAWS

Buy now!
FOR A GOOD PAWS

VISIONARY WOLF (Alpha Force)

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VISIONARY WOLF (Alpha Force)

TRAINED TO PROTECT

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TRAINED TO PROTECT

PROTECTOR WOLF

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PROTECTOR WOLF

BAD TO THE BONE

Buy now!
BAD TO THE BONE

COVERT ALLIANCE

Buy now!
COVERT ALLIANCE

TO CATCH A TREAT

Buy now!
TO CATCH A TREAT

PICK AND CHEWS

Buy now!
PICK AND CHEWS

UNLUCKY CHARMS

Buy now!
UNLUCKY CHARMS

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In Praise of . . .by Jenny Jensen

April 19, 2021 by in category On writing . . . by Jenny Jensen tagged as , , , ,
In Praise of . . . | Jenny Jensen | A Slice of Orange

A simple Internet search can become a journey down the rabbit hole. A phrase or a word catches my eye, I click and find myself wondering down a path light years from the original intent. I was looking for info on clay pot cooking and got entranced by all the entries about things people are in praise of. Not sure how I got there, it’s a Google thing, but I couldn’t look away; all those heart felt testimonials extolling an incredible array of individual passions.

I was delighted by a man’s elegant praise of Velcro (who could argue with that?), an oratory on the simplicity of the ten penny nail (it really is an elegant and useful item), a poetic discourse on the play of sunlight on soap bubbles in the kitchen sink (I’ll take her word for it). The essays in praise of the rubber band, the sound of a child’s heartbeat in a quiet moment, the meditative smell of a crackling fire on a cold night all touched a universal human note—and I asked what I am in praise of.

Answer: writers. I write in praise of writers. I work with authors. I know something of the blood, sweat and tears invested in the books that are my passion to read. Writers are people with such a strong drive to tell stories they dive into unchartered waters and do it—despite the requirements of life. Writing is a full time occupation for a rare few. For most, the act of putting pen to paper is precious time carved out between client conferences, parenting, shift schedules, basic survival—the business of life. Amazing, praiseworthy.

Every book began as a spark in the mind of a writer. Might be an event, or a word overheard or grandmother’s lace collar that ignited the spark. With trial and error that spark becomes a premise to be populated with characters and action and goals. With more trial and error a burgeoning universe grows into a draft. More trial and error—okay, call it what it is—revisions and rewrites. Then more of same. Finally, a deep breath and first cautious preview. Writers group, spouse, beta reader, editor; it doesn’t matter who, the writer bears their soul. Feedback is absorbed (emotionally, technically, inspirationally), and it’s back to revise and rewrite, until the whole tough process results in the best effort of the writer.

That journey from idea to finished book is praiseworthy enough. That it’s just the beginning of a new sweaty effort is a fact. A book isn’t alive without readers. Reaching those readers is the next act. Even with a traditional publisher every writer has to promote their work — a fact even more vital for Indie authors. How else can the reader find your book among the 1100 new postings per day? Nothing makes me sadder than to have a client hang up their keyboard after publishing because sales are few to none. These are wonderful books, I know they are, but the author made no effort to promote. No one found the work. That wonderful book never stood a chance.

The investment of writing a book is a labor of love. Promoting and selling the book is just hard work. The effort begins with well-chosen genre categories and killer key words. An educated approach to pricing techniques, a website, blog and social media are promotional gold. Reviews are essential; consistency is key. Every author must invest the sweat equity needed to allow people to find their book. Fortunately, hundreds of Indie pros share promotional know-how, experiences and techniques on line, a lot of it free.

When I have found that ‘just right’ book I can snug up the Velcro on my slippers, hang my troubles on the ten penny nail, drain the supper dish soap and with the kid sit before the fire and travel wherever those pages take me. I am in praise of writers.


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The Walls of Orion Book Tour and Excerpt

April 17, 2021 by in category Apples & Oranges by Marianne H. Donley, Rabt Book Tours tagged as , , , , ,

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Young Adult, Science Fiction, Urban Fantasy

 

Date Published: April 13, 2021

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

 

 

 

Orion City has been on lockdown for ten years. Courtney Spencer, a disillusioned barista doomed to live a “normal” life in a quarantined fishbowl, is certain she’ll never see over the Wall again.

 

Until one rainy evening, Courtney unintentionally befriends W, an eccentric customer who leaves a switchblade in the tip jar. The unexpected acquaintance soon opens the door to a frightening string of questions that flips everything she knows upside down. Stumbling into a world of secrets, lies, and disturbing truths, Courtney grapples with a burning temptation to look again at the Wall. Surrounded by citizens trained to ignore its looming shadow, Courtney no longer can.

 

Intrigued and terrified to expand her world, Courtney finds herself toeing a knife’s edge between the law and justice, learning quickly that the two are not always compatible. She wants to cling to her morals. She also wants to stay alive. But most of all, she wants to see a certain customer again, despite everything in her whispering W is dangerous.

 

In a gritty urban clash of hope and fear, passion and survival, The Walls of Orion explores the edges of light, dark, and the gray in between.

 

 

 

About the Author

 

 

A world-romper from the Pacific Northwest who quite enjoys the label “crazy,” T.D. Fox supplements a hyperactive imagination with real life shenanigans to add pizzazz to her storytelling endeavors.

Armed with a bachelor’s degree in Intercultural Studies, her favorite stories to write usually involve a clash of worldviews, an unflinching reevaluation of one’s own internal compass, and an embrace of the compelling unease that arises when vastly different worlds collide.

When not recklessly exploring inner-city alleyways during midnight thunderstorms in the States, she can be found exploring rainforests without enough bug spray somewhere along the equator.

 

 

Contact Links

Facebook: T.D. Fox

Twitter: @TDFoxAuthor

Goodreads

Instagram: @TDFoxAuthor

 


Purchase Link

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Excerpt
The Walls of Orion
T. D. Fox


“Hey,” she called again. “We’re closed. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

He didn’t make any sign that he’d heard. Courtney took another step forward. A deck of cards lay scattered over the table, white faces sharp and crisp in the shadow. At first she thought he was playing solitaire, but she noticed half the cards appeared to be cut in half. Diagonal slashes from corner to corner, oblong triangles and half grinning faces of Jacks and Queens.

“You’re bored.”

Courtney blinked at the soft voice. “Sorry?”

W didn’t look up, just took a handful of half-cards in his hands and shuffled. She was impressed he could do so with such deft precision, given the weird shapes.

Bor-ed. You know, weary, restless, your little world holds nothing of interest. The repetition, the grind, marching toward that same paycheck every week. You’re over it.”

She stared at the mangled cards. “What are you—”

“Wake up. Eat cereal. Work your tail off for eight dollars in tips. Come home to an empty hole in the wall. Pass out and repeat. Sound familiar?”

Something prickled at the back of her neck. He flipped a card onto the table. A three of hearts, with two of the hearts cut out.

“I really have to close up,” she tried again.

W looked up then. Leaning forward, he laced his fingers under his chin and peered up at her. “Got somewhere to be?”

She opened her mouth, but a picture of her silent apartment filled her mind. Shadows slinking through the tiny space, the stars in the window blacked out behind the Wall. The breath slid out of her lungs without a sound.

W motioned to the bench across from him. Without really deciding, Courtney found herself moving. She sank into the booth. Just for a minute. Her knees ached from standing all day. All week.

“Two minutes.” She nodded at the cards. “What are you playing?”

“It’s called Life.” He glanced up at her. “Wanna learn?”

“Does it work with all those broken cards?”

W laughed. “Darlin’, it only works with broken cards.”

He started dealing. As she watched, a little voice in the back of her mind asked what the hell she was doing. He explained the rules of the game, and she found herself distracted by the way his face changed as he spoke. He was a very expressive person. But nothing quite seemed to touch his eyes. Frowns, smiles, laughs. Those pale eyes stayed the same. At first she’d thought they were gray, but now she could see a faint swirl of color inside them. She couldn’t decide if it was icy blue or green.

In this light, he looked younger than she’d initially figured. The sharp skin-on-bones angles stole some of the youth from his face, but she noticed a boyishness in the crooked grin that startled her. He probably wasn’t more than a handful of years her senior, mid to late twenties maybe. The contrast of dark hair and pale eyes made the edged features more striking, not quite handsome, but something close. 

He went silent, and she realized with flushed cheeks that she’d been staring.

“My, my, kiddo, you really are bored.”

Defensive felt better than embarrassed. “Who’re you calling kiddo?” She leaned back. “And you keep saying I’m bored. You don’t know me.”

“I know your eyes. They’re the reason I became a regular in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

He peered at her over the cards. “Your eyes. They’re restless. Not something you see every day in this city. You want more.”

“More of what?”

He leaned back, a small smile playing about his lips. “You tell me.”

Clearing her throat, Courtney sat back in her seat and picked her own intrusive question. “Why W?”

“It’s the most inconvenient letter to say.”

“No, I mean—why just the initial? You never give your real name.”

“Who’s to say it’s not real?” He glanced down. “C suits you better than your nametag. An initial has infinite potential. You could be anything. Not ordinary, not a repeat label your parents picked out of a baby book. The possibilities are limitless.”

Again, he’d steered the conversation off an uncomfortable edge. Courtney nodded to the deck of cards. “You were teaching me how to play.”

W chuckled, and Courtney couldn’t decide if the sound was pleasant or unsettling. She paid close attention to the way he laid out the cards, whole and broken pieces alike. Some looked like the other halves of cards cut in two. Others seemed to have no corresponding piece. She wondered if they were all from the same deck.

He dealt, and she did her best to play along. A steady current of doubt hummed beneath her thoughts. She glanced up at the clock above W’s head, at the minute hand ticking past closing time. Why couldn’t she bring herself to get up and leave?

Courtney figured out pretty quickly that the rules of this game made no sense to her. Every time she thought she’d gotten it down, something changed. Maybe W was messing with her. Was Life even a real game? Matt was right, he was kind of a loon, as he proved more and more throughout the course of their interaction.

“Y’know, C.” He shuffled the cards again, dealing out a different number than last time. Which was a different number than the time before that. Courtney really didn’t get this game. She was starting to think there was nothing to get at all. “I mean absolutely no offense. But I can’t help but notice you’re a little crazy.”

Courtney looked up, choking on a laugh. “Me?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re still here.”

“You’re the one who invited me to play cards,” she started.

“Nah, not here with me. I mean here.”

She waited. “I think I’m following this conversation as much as the game.”

“Surrounded by crazy people. Working a crazy job, in a crazy city, waiting for the next crazy thing to happen and hoping it doesn’t happen to you.”

A prickle ran up her spine. “You’re talking about the news this morning.”

“Something happened this morning?” The cards shuffled through his long fingers with a magician’s flair. “Don’t watch the news much.”

She frowned at him. “I suppose that’s one way to survive in this town.”

“Who wants to survive? I quit surviving ages ago. You should quit, too. What a boring habit.”

Courtney stared. “More of a basic instinct, I think.”

“No. Our instinct is to live.” The cards fluttered with a rippling swoosh. “These big four Walls can make a body forget that, though.”

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