⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Tender Dreams, Harsh Reality by John Beilharz #Nonfiction #Memoir

A Young Man’s Tumultuous Journey Through the Late 60s and early 70s...

 

Title: Tender Dreams, Harsh Reality

Author: John Beilharz

Publisher: Independent

Pages: 294

Genre: Nonfiction/Memoir

Format: Paperback, Kindle, FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Tender Dreams, Harsh Reality make up the memoirs in John Beilharz’s lifelong dream to share his most cherished life experiences with friends and loved ones, and perhaps with a broader audience.

In this collection, readers travel through a collection of short stories about John’s coming of age in the 1960s and 1970s amid a rapidly changing world. From his idyllic childhood in Hollywood, California, to his adventures in unknown territories, John’s stories capture the essence of his rites to manhood.

Readers discover John’s life challenges as they delve deeper into his world. However, amidst the chaos of drugs, music, prison, wilderness, and Vietnam, his guardian angels seem to appear during his most significant times of need, offering guidance and support when he needed it most.

Read sample.

Tender Dreams, Harsh Reality is available at Amazon at https://a.co/d/fSnC3fN .


Excerpt:

In 1967, the Summer of Love commenced on a positive note as I graduated from Hollywood High with all the grandeur of our ceremony taking place at the iconic Hollywood Bowl. It was surreal to realize that I had graduated on the same stage where I had seen the Beatles perform just a few years earlier. I was looking forward to having a summer off before starting junior college in the fall.

Living in Hollywood in the late 1960s was quite an adventure, one that I am glad I experienced and survived. Hollywood High, the Sheiks, allowed me to complete high school but also introduced me to up-and-coming movie stars, musicians, drugs, and a great group of friends.

I saw top bands start their careers at the Troubadour and the Whiskey a Go Go, experienced love-ins, played sports, and surfed some of the best breaks ever. I also visited my good friend, Greg, in San Francisco several times. I remember, or barely remember, taking midnight flights for twelve dollars. The hour-long flight was filled with hippies who smoked pot and were getting ready to party in SF. We would arrive at the gate, the doors would open, and smoke would pour out into the lobby.

And of course, there were the Vietnam protests.  

The draft was still hanging over my head, and the idea of going to Vietnam was out of the question. I was active in Vietnam War protests in both Los Angeles and San Francisco. After a few hours of marching, holding signs, and listening to speakers, the demonstrations would often turn into what they called a love-in. These events consisted of smoking weed, taking drugs, playing music, dancing, blowing bubbles, smelling patchouli oil, and, yes, free sex. I'm still trying to figure out what that meant; it seems like an oxymoron.

Hollywood in the late 1960s and early 1970s was a unique time and place to grow up in.

My good friend, Tom, worked at a gas station in Hollywood. He loved the night shift because it allowed him to read, pump gas, and work on cars without anyone bothering him. Sometimes, after my shift at Dee’s Broasted Chicken, I brought food and hung out with him while we played chess and worked around the station.

One night, when I was at the station with him and his co-worker, Skylar, an RV with a flat tire pulled up. An attractive, light-skinned young Mexican man stepped out.

"Looks like you need your tire fixed," Tom remarked.

“Can we fix your tire for you?” Skylar asked. He was an eighteen-year-old kid from Nogales, Arizona.

“We can have it patched up in no time and get you back on your way,” Tom assured him.

At that point, two other Mexican guys, Eddie, and Tony, piled out of the RV, offering Tom and me a joint. We all went inside the RV and smoked some Acapulco Gold, a strain of marijuana that Tom and I had never tried before. It took the rest of the night to fix their tire and stop laughing.

***

Tom and I became quick friends with the boys from Nogales. We introduced Skylar, Eddie, and Tony to our other friends, and they proved to be the funniest and coolest guys you would ever want to meet. They were all bilingual, often using Spanish phrases that were mostly Mexican street slang. We all started copying them like parrots, and they immediately meshed with our group.

The hombres stayed in L.A. for about a month, and we grew very close to them. We took them to Disneyland, the beach, and musical events, often parking Skylar's RV on the strip near or in front of the Whiskey-a-Go-Go. We would play music, get high, and invite young women in for drinks. One time, Jim Morrison walked by and peeked inside the open door. We invited him in for a smoke, but he had to return to the club.

Skylar was undoubtedly the leader of the group and was super intelligent, good-looking with his wild, dark eyes, and very outgoing. He was also a high school track star and very popular with the girls. His family had money, and he spoke proper Spanish, not street Spanish like Tony and Eddie. A bit like Eddie Haskell on Leave it to Beaver, my parents and little sister loved him. Every bit the golden boy in front of them, no one in my family had any idea he was always planning something illegal.

After about a month in Hollywood, Skylar and the boys had to return to Nogales. They kept urging me and my friends to come down and hang out, so before school started, I decided to go down for a while. I took the train and the bus to Tucson, where Skylar picked me up in his brand-new VW camper.

Skylar's father, General Octavio Hildago, had been a former pilot in the Mexican Airforce, owned two planes, and had his own airstrip on the ranch. He flew cargo to different parts of Mexico, and we helped him load air conditioners, TVs, stereo systems, and other items onto the plane in the morning. Skylar's mother, of Hawaiian descent, was a stunning woman who cared for the house and children and managed the general's business finances. Skylar had two sisters and a grandfather who also lived on the ranch. They all lived comfortably with new cars and beautiful artwork adorning their walls.

I enjoyed staying at Skylar's parents’ stunning ranch in Patagonia in the guest quarters, and I loved the high desert climate.

Skylar, Eddie, Tony, and their other friends had a fun life down there, and I enjoyed being with them. We went to bars across the border, went to the local high desert lakes to swim and dive off the rocks, camped in the Grand Canyon and—an all-time favorite—hanging out at the border and watching people get busted with drugs in their cars or trucks. It was somewhat twisted but an entertaining way to spend evenings.

– Excerpted from Tender Deams, Harsh Reality by John Beilharz, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

As a Ph.D. in psychology, John Beilharz has had an illustrious career in various fields. From practicing as a therapist to teaching at a junior college, he eventually founded his successful marketing and advertising firm. Yet, despite his success in these endeavors, John has always been drawn to the art of storytelling.

Through his memoirs, John shares his life experiences in a poignant and captivating way. This collection of short stories is a testament to the power of the human spirit and the enduring resilience of the human soul.

You can visit his website at https://jbadvertising.com or follow him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/people/John-Beilharz-Author/61573799214000/.



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⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐The Arrangement by S.D. Lettie #NewAdult #RomanticSuspense

 


A forced engagement binds them, but the secrets simmering between them threaten to implode their lives far sooner than any wedding bells—part one of a slow-burn duet…

 


Title: THE ARRANGEMENT

Author: S.D. Lettie

Publisher: Independent

Pages: 298

Genre: New Adult, Romantic Suspense

Format: Paperback, Kindle, FREE with Kindle Unlimited

You know that guy you fell for at sixteen—the one who vanished without explanation, leaving behind enough damage to last years? Now imagine being forced into an engagement with him because your parents decided you’re more useful as leverage than as a daughter. 

And the part he forgot to mention? He’s heir to a Bratva empire with blood on its hands. 

That’s Emilia’s life. Her future is not her own, and her fiancé, Nikolai Volkov, is a man whose silence is more dangerous than his words. Their past is a wound. Their engagement is a threat. And what grows between them is something neither of them should let happen. 

The Arrangement is a dark, slow-burn story of buried truths, political corruption, and a connection that pulls two damaged people toward a collision neither may survive unscathed.

Read sample.

The Arrangement is available at Amazon.

 




Book Excerpt

My phone buzzes in my shorts pocket. I ignore it, thinking it’s a text, but then it buzzes again. I look down and see my father’s name lighting up the screen. Groaning, I answer. 

“Emilia.” His voice is calm, clipped. Not cold, just clean, like everything else he controls. He says my name like punctuation. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Your mother asked me to check on the brunch.” 

She didn’t want to ask herself. She never does. She strategically delegates through him, like always. “It’s done,” I say. “Final headcount is confirmed. Catering’s squared. My remarks are short and already vetted.” There’s a pause, the sound of him moving paper in the background, or maybe pouring a drink. I can’t tell. He’s always multitasking, even when he speaks like everything is a priority. 

“She wants it to go smoothly.” 

It will. He knows that. He wouldn’t have called if he didn’t already trust it was handled. 

“There’s something else,” my father says right as I think we’re done, his voice flat and clipped in the way he reserves for things that aren’t up for discussion. “I’ve arranged a meeting with Nikolai and his father next week at the Four Seasons. I’d like you to be there. We have some important things to discuss.” 

– Excerpted from The Arrangement by S.D. Lettie, Independent, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Before she ever had “author” next to her name, S.D. Lettie was—and still is—an avid reader first; the kind who would finish a book in a day and beg her parents to take her back to the bookstore. Reading started as a hobby and, as she got older, became her source of entertainment, escape, and comfort. Over the years, she found herself wanting to write the kind of worlds readers could get excited about—a world that could grow into a fandom of its own. 

Today, Lettie writes slow-burn romances—stories about characters who are imperfectly perfect, the hard moments that shape them, and the plot twists that leave readers reeling. Outside her writing life, she’s a wife and mom of two, roles that influence both her time and perspective. She’s also a dedicated soccer fan, the kind who will plan her day around a match and openly admit she’ll yell at the TV when things get heated.

Through all of it, her goal as an author is simple: she wants her characters to stay with readers long after the book ends. 

Her latest book is the new adult romantic suspense, The Arrangement (Bancroft University Chronicles Book 1).

Visit her website at www.sdlettieauthor.com. Connect with her on Facebook, Instagram, BookBub and Goodreads.






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⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐NightBorn by Theresa Cheung #ParanormalThriller

 

When a brilliant dream psychologist begins appearing in thousands of strangers’ nightmares, she must confront a terrifying truth…

 

Title: NIGHTBORN

Author: Theresa Cheung

Publisher: Collective Ink

Pages: 220

Genre: Paranormal Thriller

Format: Paperback, Kindle

What if the line between your waking life and your darkest dreams disappeared forever?

Alice Sinclair, a driven psychology professor, is about to find out. When thousands of people begin experiencing terrifying, vivid nightmares … all centered around her, Alice’s quiet academic life is shattered. Haunted by the question of why she’s become the subject of these shared dreams, Alice embarks on a desperate search for answers, uncovering a chilling secret: someone – or something – hungry for global power has discovered a way to manipulate consciousness itself. The world is fast becoming a playground for those in control of the dreaming mind.  In a heart-stopping race against time, Alice must navigate a treacherous web of deception, where nothing – and no one – can be trusted, not even herself.

Read a sample.

NightBorn is available at Amazon US and Amazon UK.

Book Excerpt

Florida, USA—Sometime soon

Alice saw the wave. It was a beast.

It rose slowly at first, the way a predator prepares to strike—silent, inevitable. It quickly gained speed, swelling into a towering monster, a force of nature, as if the ocean itself had decided to swallow her whole. The wave surged, easily 30 feet high, dark and roaring with a ferocity she could feel in her bones. It moved toward her with the relentlessness of fate.

She turned, panic seizing her as she raced up the beach, her bare feet slipping in the wet sand. The ocean was closing in—the world was closing in on her. Her breath came in jagged gasps, but the wave, too quick, slammed into her, yanking her under.

Her body twisted through the water, eyes stinging, lungs burning, desperate for air, clawing at the debris swirling around her—plastic, broken wood, seaweed, dead fish—but there was no solid ground to cling to. The current pulled her deeper, its

grip tightening like cold fingers around her throat.

She gasped for air, choking on the water, the world a dark, crushing void. She couldn’t see. Every nerve in her body screamed for release, but the ocean kept pulling, tumbling her in every direction, turning her body like a puppet with broken strings. She was drowning. No—she was going to die.

Something in her snapped.

Her feet hit something solid. Hard. Stone? She couldn’t tell.

All she knew was that she had to rise. She shoved upward, throwing her weight toward the surface with every ounce of strength she had left. Her body screamed, but she pushed

harder, until her head broke through to air. For one split second, she inhaled—but the water dragged her down again, relentless, hungry for her life. She fought the instinct to panic.

She couldn’t let it win. Not today.

Just breathe. Just breathe, Alice. Instinctively she let herself float, stilling her body, letting the sea carry her, accepting the weight of the water around her. She couldn’t fight it anymore—but maybe she didn’t have to.

Her feet found solid ground again. She shoved upward, defiant, gasping as she broke through. Sunlight blinded her.

Alice jerked awake, the sharp taste of salt lingering on her tongue, her body tangled in the sheets. The echo of the wave still thundered in her ears. The sunlight slanted through the bedroom window, blinding. Her pulse thrummed in her neck as if the sea still had its grip on her.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. It was a dream. Just a nightmare.”

What if it wasn’t just a nightmare?

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Alice’s feet hit the cold floor. Had Swiss psychiatrist and dream analysis pioneer, Carl Jung ever felt this unsettled after one of his dreams? Had his own night visions ever made him question his grasp on reality?

Her eyes flickered to the bedside table and her Red Book: the dream journal she’d named after Jung’s own. Ever since she was young, she’d written down her dreams. But this one felt radically different from the rest.

It was too real, though it clearly wasn’t literal. She lived more than an hour from the nearest beach and had never been to it. Was the dream a symbolic glimpse into her own future? A warning? Or something darker, deeper?

It was just a dream. Maybe it was just all the energy she’d poured into teaching Jungian dream analysis spilling out cathartically in a nightmare.

The feeling of drowning clung to her.

She grabbed her journal and scribbled out every detail of the dream. The ocean. The wave. The suffocating terror. Jung had called the act of recording dreams an act of self-analysis—so why did this one feel more like a clear and present danger than an analysis? Was it the forbidden mystery Jung had hinted at in his Red Book—that thin line between genius and insanity where revelation could be found?

Was her obsession with dreams driving her mad?

It was her calling, her passion. Perhaps, as director of the new program in Jungian Studies at the University of Central Florida, she could teach her students what she had dreamt and encourage them to analyze it; maybe it would be cathartic for

them and for her.

What if her students were the key to unlocking the deeper meanings of her own dream? She could see herself standing before the class, scrawling on the blackboard, her voice filled with energy as she taught them about using their dreams to peer into possible futures, even to shape reality. Inception—she would reference that for sure, the perfect movie fix to illustrate how the subconscious could manipulate perception and even reality.

What better way to introduce her students to the power of their own dreaming minds?

Alice pushed herself out of bed as the sinking feeling of the dream still clung tight. Blinking rapidly in front of her bedroom mirror, she forced herself to take deep breaths. Her long dark hair framing the mismatched eyes staring right back at her: one

blue, one brown. She had always hated this difference. Always hidden it behind a pair of blue lenses.

A perfect illusion of normalcy, her blue lenses. They always worked—ever since she was 14, when her mother had taken her to the ophthalmologist to prevent the cruel teasing at school.

Alice slipped them on, as though the simple act could shield her from her nightmare.

The rhythm of her repeated blinking to help the lenses settle helped bring a semblance of calm.

Something was coming, though; she could feel it. Something was drawing her, pulling her into the unknown. Could she rise above and survive it?

Alice dressed the part for her day ahead and stepped out into the bright light of the day.

Was the drowning nightmare a message? A warning? And if so, a warning about what?

– Excerpted from NightBorn by Theresa Cheung, Collective Ink, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Theresa Cheung is an internationally bestselling author and public speaker. She has been writing about spirituality, dreams and the paranormal for the past 25 years, and was listed by Watkins Mind Body and Spirit magazine as one of the 100 most spiritually influential living people in 2023. She has a degree in Theology and English from Kings College, Cambridge University, frequently collaborating with leading scientists and neuroscientists researching consciousness.

Theresa is regularly featured in national newspapers and magazines, and she is a frequent radio, podcast and television guest and ITV: This Morning’s regular dream decoding expert. She hosts her own popular spiritual podcast called White Shores and weekly live UK Health Radio Show: The Healing Power of Your Dreams.

Her latest book is the paranormal thriller, NightBorn, available at Amazon US and Amazon UK.

You can visit her website at www.theresacheung.com or connect with her on X, Facebook, Instagram or Goodreads.


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⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Fighter Pilot's Daughter by Mary Lawlor #Memoir

 


The story of the author as a young woman coming of age in an Irish Catholic, military family…

 





Title: Fighter Pilot's Daughter

Author: Mary Lawlor

Publisher: Rowman and Littlefield

Pages: 323 

Genre: Memoir 

Format: Hardcover, Paperback, Kindle, Audiobook

Fighter Pilot’s Daughter: Growing Up in the Sixties and the Cold War tells the story of Mary Lawlor’s dramatic, roving life as a warrior’s child. A family biography and a young woman’s vision of the Cold War, Fighter Pilot’s Daughter narrates the more than many transfers the family made from Miami to California to Germany as the Cold War demanded. Each chapter describes the workings of this traveling household in a different place and time. The book’s climax takes us to Paris in May ’68, where Mary—until recently a dutiful military daughter—has joined the legendary student demonstrations against among other things, the Vietnam War. Meanwhile her father is flying missions out of Saigon for that very same war. Though they are on opposite sides of the political divide, a surprising reconciliation comes years later.

Read sample

Fighter Pilot’s Daughter is available at Amazon.


 
 
Book Excerpt 

The pilot’s house where I grew up was mostly a women’s world. There were five of us. We had the place to ourselves most of the time. My mother made the big decisions—where we went to school, which bank to keep our money in. She had to decide these things often because we moved every couple of years. The house is thus a figure of speech, a way of thinking about a long series of small, cement dwellings we occupied as one fictional home.

It was my father, however, who turned the wheel, his job that rotated us to so many different places. He was an aviator, first in the Marines, later in the Army. When he came home from his extended absences—missions, they were called—the rooms shrank around him. There wasn’t enough air. We didn’t breathe as freely as we did when he was gone, not because he was mean or demanding but because we worshipped him. Like satellites my sisters and I orbited him at a distance, waiting for the chance to come closer, to show him things we’d made, accept gifts, hear his stories. My mother wasn’t at the center of things anymore. She hovered, maneuvered, arranged, corrected. She was first lady, the dame in waiting. He was the center point of our circle, a flier, a winged sentry who spent most of his time far up over our heads. When he was home, the house was definitely his.

These were the early years of the Cold War. It was a time of vivid fears, pictured nowadays in photos of kids hunkered under their school desks. My sisters and I did that. The phrase “air raid drill” rang hard—the double-A sound a cold, metallic twang, ending with ill. It meant rehearsal for a time when you might get burnt by the air you breathed.

Every day we heard practice rounds of artillery fire and ordinance on the near horizon. We knew what all this training was for. It was to keep the world from ending. Our father was one of many dads who sweat at soldierly labor, part of an arsenal kept at the ready to scare off nuclear annihilation of life on earth. When we lived on post, my sisters and I saw uniformed men marching in straight lines everywhere. This was readiness, the soldiers rehearsing against Armageddon. The rectangular buildings where the commissary, the PX, the bowling alley, and beauty shop were housed had fallout shelters in the basements, marked with black and yellow wheels, the civil defense insignia. Our dad would often leave home for several days on maneuvers, readiness exercises in which he and other men played war games designed to match the visions of big generals and political men. Visions of how a Russian air and ground attack would happen. They had to be ready for it.

A clipped, nervous rhythm kept time on military bases. It was as if you needed to move efficiently to keep up with things, to be ready yourself, even if you were just a kid. We were chased by the feeling that life as we knew it could change in an hour.

This was the posture. On your mark, get set. But there was no go. It was a policy of meaningful waiting. Meaningful because it was the waiting itself that counted—where you did it, how many of the necessities you had, how long you could keep it up. Imagining long, sunless days with nothing to do but wait for an all-clear sign or for the threatening, consonant-heavy sounds of a foreign language overhead, I taught myself to pray hard.

– Excerpted from Fighter Pilot’s Daughter by Mary Lawlor, Rowman and Littlefield, 2013. Reprinted with permission.


About the Author
 

Mary Lawlor is author of Fighter Pilot’s Daughter (Rowman & Littlefield 2013, paper 2015), Public Native America (Rutgers Univ. Press 2006), and Recalling the Wild (Rutgers Univ. Press, 2000). Her short stories and essays have appeared in Big Bridge and Politics/Letters. She studied the American University in Paris and earned a Ph.D. from New York University. She divides her time between an old farmhouse in Easton, Pennsylvania, and a cabin in the mountains of southern Spain.

You can visit her website at https://www.marylawlor.net/ or connect with her on Twitter or Facebook.




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