⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐A Nick of Time by Mike DiCerto @mikedicerto #ANickofTime #MiddleGrade #Fantasy

 

Rupert must travel the colorful world of the Zodiac to save the New Year from being frozen forever by stopping a baddie who has stolen the final second from the previous year…

By Mike DiCerto 

 

It’s New Year’s Eve in Graysland, but when the final second fails to come Rupert Starbright finds his entire town frozen in time. Rupert and his school crush Rainn Evertree must travel to the Land of Annum to retrieve the stolen second from the nasty and evil Epoch. They will explore a wild, imaginative, and musical world where all the characters of the Zodiac join Rainn in helping Rupert in his most colorful and challenging adventure yet!

A Nick of Time is thoroughly entertaining and a fun read, this should be made into a Pixar animation!” – Amazon

“All kids should be encouraged to read this unique series and use their imaginings as well! It’s the power of positive thinking for the young adult set. Highly recommend!” – Amazon

Book Information

Release Date: August 16, 2021

Publisher:  Zumaya Publications

Soft Cover: ISBN: 978-1612710990; 295 pages; $11.70; eBook $4.99 

Amazon: http://amzn.to/3vSNQ1x

 






What felt like two sharp knives dug into Rupert’s shoulder—

something was trying to hold him under the suffocating

mud. He reached up blindly but grabbed only handfuls

of wet, mushy soil and grass. Another vicelike grip

grabbed his opposite shoulder, and he wanted to scream

to scare his attacker off.

Then he felt his body rise up, and cool air washed across

his muddy face. Higher he was lifted, until with a loud, slurping

sound his body was free. He was held in the grip by a

being in full shining black armor. Its face was like an insect’s,

but with blue-green glowing eyes.

Rupert screamed and kicked and punched. The being

was strong, and placed him firmly atop a dry, stony island

in the swamp; then stepped away from Rupert’s flailing fists

and laughed loudly.

Rupert wiped mud off his face and glared at the dark

shining being.

“Relax, my friend,” the being said in a female voice.

“You are fine.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend. Not sure why you fought me. I was trying

to rescue you.”

Rupert took a better look at her. It was not armor after

all—she was covered in a thick skin of polished black. She

had a wicked-looking segmented tail that curved behind her

and ended with a dangerous spiked tip. Her face was, indeed,

like an insect’s, but her eyes were a beautiful teal color

that cast a lovely glow. Her shining eyes, though, weren’t

enough to explain the bright pool of yellow light that surrounded

her.

There was a soft buzz. Rupert looked up and was surprised

to find two giant fireflies hovering. They were huge!

The size of a horse or cow. Their large crystalline wings vibrated

and sent ripples of breeze across his face.

“Thank you,” he said, confused and embarrassed.

“That was a close call. My name is Scorpio,” she said,

holding out one of her six armored limbs. Rupert shook it

nervously.

“My name is Rupert. I thought you were trying—“

“Do not worry yourself,” she interrupted. “You are one

feisty anomaly. I like that. However, I am confused why you

are here, although not as confused as I am to why I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“These are the Marshes of May. I rule October. I was

following a hallow across the Octagon Jungle when, just

like that…“ Scorpio snapped her three fingers. “…I found

myself in May.”

“What’s a hallow?”

“That creepy specter that scared the stuffing out of you.

They infest October. They are what make Hallow’s Eve so

special. So scary. They are harmless. I find them fascinating.”

“It must be because of Epoch,” Rupert said.

Scorpio shook her head. “Epoch? I don’t understand.”

“Epoch. He stole the last second before the new year

in my town. Everybody is stuck. Frozen. I came here with

my friend to get the stolen second back.”

“A stolen second? That is a first for me. That would explain

it, though. Time is a complicated puzzle. One missing

jig, and the whole calendar can get jaggy!”

“I know,” Rupert agreed. “Crazy things have been happening.”

Scorpio wiped a wad of mud off Rupert’s cheek with

a gentle flick of her claw. She smiled at him.

“You are a tough bird. I guess you were heading into

the Mayflower Forest?”

Rupert shrugged. “I don’t know its name, but yeah. That

line of trees. I thought I could camp until the light came

back.”

“Good idea! I have always wanted to see the Mayflower

Forest in person. Though it may be full of hallows from October.

Are you brave enough to come with me and see?”

“You said they’re harmless.”

“I did. Trouble is, many people are frightened of harmless

things. But I can see you are not. You have young wisdom!”

“Maybe,” Rupert said.

“October is full of scary hallows! But folks fear things

all year long. Listen…“ Scorpio stepped back, cleared her

throat and began to sing:

When a person meets a hallow

One of two things will occur

They will curse the ground it walks on

Or they’ll vanish in a blur.

They might spot a shadow lurking

On a quiet road at night

And they turn and run, forgetting

Shadows live because of light!

Or say a hairy squibblebob

Appears outside your door,

With horrid teeth and claws and such

To scare ya even more,

Don’t judge a hairy squibblebob by

The cover of its book

Deeper down inside its heart

Is where you have to look.

Don’t let the scary scare ya.

Don’t make the unknown frightening.

After all, what is the thunder

But best pals with the lightning!

Don’t fret the unknown wonders

Don’t under covers cower!

Remember this, and this I say—

True knowledge brings true power!

Never let the scary scare ya!

It’s an endless road to misery.

The greatest thing someone can feel

Is joy at all life’s mysteries!

And if indeed some bullywack

Comes ‘round to do you harm.

Just stand your ground—and trust me

here—

It works just like a charm,

Bullywacks are scared of

Their own shadows that lie under

And lightning scares them just as much

As its good friend Ol’ Thunder.

Scared and scary are just two sides

Of the same dull dime.

This has been the truthful fact

Since before the dawn of time.

So, courage and clear thinking

Are what get you through your life,

And save your stomach from butterflies

Of nervousness and strife












Since his childhood Mike Di Certo has always harvested his work from the abundant crop of his imagination. From the wild and hilarious Rock and Roll space adventure Milky Way Marmalade, to the child-like wonder of his middle grade series, The Adventures of Rupert Starbright (The Door to Far-Myst, The Secret of My-Myst and The Ghosts of Winter Joy) Michael's passions play out on the pages. His love of animals, his family, gardening, travel, movies, VR, history, Yoga, reading and music guide and influence his life and his writing.

His latest book is the middle grade fantasy novel, A Nick of Time.

Visit his website at www.ruperstarbright.com or connect with him on Twitter and Facebook.



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PUYB Author Talks: ⭐A Bookish Conversation with 'The Portuguese Immigrant' Devin Meireles⭐ #The Portuguese Immigrant #interview




Devin Meireles
 is a healthcare administrative worker from Toronto that moonlights as a freelance writer. Apart from creative writing, Devin enjoys films, history, genealogy, and stamps in his passport. He wrote a narrative nonfiction book about his grandfather’s immigration story and has published many articles in literary journals and cultural magazines.

His latest book is the narrative nonfiction, The Portuguese Immigrant: Atlantic Heritage Story.

You can connect with him at Instagram at www.instagram.com/lusoloonie

 




How did you  come up with the idea to write your book?

Devin: Thanks for having me! The idea came after years of collecting genealogical data. My intent was to learn more about my family and why my grandfather came to Canada. I wanted to understand his experience of immigrating here. My discoveries were profound and it was poetic for me to know that history. There were things I learned about that I never knew before. It helped me to appreciate where I am today. It’s a great privilege to be Canadian-born with so many opportunities at my doorstep. When the pandemic hit, I started to write all that ancestry information into a narrative nonfiction story and it evolved from there. Many months later, the project morphed into a biography manuscript that I wanted to share with my relatives and other immigrants alike that could benefit or be inspired from what I did.

Can you give us a short excerpt?

Devin: “Sloshing over a damp, unpaved road through the village, each step in the mud brought her closer to him. She was donned in a black, hooded cape that covered her wholly from the misty rain. Her bright eyes glowed like a cat, reflecting off the sun that peaked through the overcast. Birds scattered for shelter, but the shifty weather could not deter her feelings. Flying parallel with the eagles that flew above the clouds, her heart soared just as high while her attentive gaze was focused ahead.

She was driven towards his warmth and kindness; he was the apple in her glittering eyes. When inhibition stood between, they denied their adoration for each other, fearing judgment from the townspeople. However, unbridled love saw no bounds and could not be withstood. Maria Angelina de Conceição Cabral, my bisavó (great-grandmother), defied taboo after falling in love with an older man. She encapsulated the earliest demonstration of nonconformity that I had uncovered. 

Situated in the North Atlantic Ocean, on a remote utopia, her freguesia (village) was of a few hundred people that typically adopted conventional lifestyles of the time. On São Miguel Island, the islanders seldomly challenged the status quo. Their homeland is one of nine volcanic islands that make up the Azores archipelago, west of mainland Portugal. At one time or another, it was speculated to be the site of the mythical Atlantis, the lost city where buried treasures lie underwater. In whatever way, I had brought to light the legacy of my bisavó while searching for my family heritage.

She grew up hearing jarring tales of folklore and overseas conquests that contributed to the mystique of island history. Walking the storied coastline, haunted by generations passed, her journey’s end was approaching. She headed for the local variety store that sold everyday goods, where he ran day-to-day operations. As proprietor of the business, he was an influential member of the community whom she adored. As she came of age after the turn of the century, her heart was set on the middle-aged man, Manuel de Lima Meireles, my bisavô (great-grandfather). He was more than twenty years her senior.”

What part of the book was the most fun to write?

Devin: Diving into my father’s birth was the most fun. When I took a deeper dive into that date, November 8, I was amazed with what my grandmother overcame to get to that point. She came from a place with far less resources and opportunities. She was accustomed to solving things for herself. When she gave birth to my father, she took herself to the hospital while my grandfather was out working. At the same time, the American election happened south of the border. By the time my father was born, JFK had been elected and it was symbolic of a new beginning, both internationally and at my grandparents’ home. It was the beginning of a new era. My father was their greatest achievement after so many years of hardship in the Azores.

What’s one fact about your book that would surprise people?

Devin: I wrote this story without breaking the bank. I invested in some DNA research and ancestry websites however the majority of my information came from interviews with family members. With what they told me, I was able to expand on the storytelling to incorporate historical events. Researching the typical environment for the time was one of the biggest contributions. Learning about the environmental factors and political landscape surrounding the time was important to look at. As I understood more about those external factors, I was able to draw out a dialogue surrounding life events as I knew how things were going to pan out.

What other books are you working on and when will they be published?

Devin: I am developing a story from my personal experience of visiting the Portuguese islands. My Atlantic heritage really inspires me. Hopefully I can get something out next year. 

Do you have any final words?

Devin: Stay curious. Write it down. And as time passes, you will be amazed with how much you have collected. Thanks for your interest in my story and I hope that you will be inspired to do the same!


 

Inside the Book

The Portuguese Immigrant: Atlantic Heritage Story is a narrative non-fiction book about the author’s family history—particularly the lives of their paternal ancestors from Sao Miguel Island in Portugal. The story begins with their great-grandparents before shifting focus to their paternal grandparents and their unconditional love for each other. Their relationship overcame many obstacles of the time and they were physically separated for nearly three years after leaving the homeland. They became immigrants in Canada—a place where the author found themselves born and raised, being something that they are grateful for yet fascinated to reflect on the history of how it happened.

Weaving a wonderful tale of the struggles and triumphs as well as the rich Portuguese culture of their ancestry, the book follows their grandfather, Vovô, who was the impetus for life in the New World. Embarking on the journey of lifetime, they carried out a mission guided by true love to carve out a fighting chance for the future of his family.

The author speaks on various characteristics embodied and behavioural traits that have shaped their sense of self today while forging a deep connection with their ancestors. Understanding more about themselves than anticipated along the way to show that it really is all in the family. The history that behooves us has been set out for those with the privilege to continue down the path—a sentiment that the author draws out with great detail. Their descriptions of events set the scene to take the reader back in time.

Book Information

Release Date: January 18, 2022

Publisher:  Independent

Soft Cover: ISBN:  978-1777996611; 197 pages; $18.99; eBook $4.99; FREE on Kindle Unlimited

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3IsJSSC 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3NUhMAB






⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Later by Colette R. Harrell @coletterharrell #Later #Historical #Paranormal

 

A pre-civil war enslaved family on the run and the love and justice that journeys across time to be fulfilled…

By Colette R. Harrell

In 1859, Junie Benson was a twelve-year-old genius and enslaved. His older sister, Sari, had her own difficulties, including being auctioned to the highest bidder. She was also beautiful, flighty, and had a repetitive dream about a hazel-eyed white stranger. Everybody with the good sense God had given them knew even her dream was forbidden.

In the present, three things troubled ex-Special Forces Lt. Colonel Zachary Trumble . . . his new job as director of security for Burstein Labs, his loveless marriage, and the green-eyed siren who won’t let him sleep in peace. 

Then time’s fickle hand brewed a recipe for a miracle . . . Stir in three runaway slaves, an avalanche, one mad scientist, and an unhappy, in-love hero to create a dish for revenge best served . . . Later.

Book Information

Release Date: September 1, 2022

Publisher:  Intentional Entertainment LLC

Soft Cover: 204 pages

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3dyfTxg 




Prologue

We’ve been here a long time, me and the other shacks. We started out long ago as log cabins. The occupants spoke prayers of hope over shallow grunts as they flexed hardened muscles to build us strong. Then after backbreaking days in the tobacco fields, they made our dirt floors and grass-mixed-mud walls. Our wooden chimneys and brick hearths were the heart of our homes. It was a one-size-fits-all room, where they nursed their aches and caressed their wounds.

It wasn’t all bad. We could sometimes smile as they made babies in a fevered pitch, good groans of satisfaction rolling through the air and out the window. Then we would rejoice, whispering up and down the quarters that it was a good night.

That’s how we used to talk to each other, back and forth through the howling of the winds or the gentle flow of a breeze. There were days we’d moan with the pain of our inhabitants, who were too tired from the grueling work to tend to our needs. Took us a while to decide what to call them . . . inhabitants, occupants, residents? We never could decide. Inconsistency was a malevolent characteristic we all endured. They never owned us. Just stayed a bit while they could. And, to be fair, they tried to keep us up. Oh, we got a hit and a lick of mud before the winter winds blew, but it was meager labor. Neglect was easy when profits were the owner’s goal, and the fields were a harsh partner.

Years later, our dilapidated wooden logs would be eaten, digested by termites with fat bellies. Laid out in a row like coffins after the war. No hero’s welcome for all we had endured. We whisper about it even now through broken windows that no longer hold our secrets. Others may think it’s the wind howling, but those are our screams, held captive for years while we watched, waited, and hungered for habitation. Hungered while generations of slaves and sharecroppers had nothing to share . . . No more to give. Watched as Big Mama, who carried large pots of water to an iron tub, whittled down to nothing but bones as she lay on my dirt floor every evening, moaning in pain . . . waiting for change.

At first, new folk moved in when others gave up. And each added their blood and mud to slather yawning cracks and holes to keep the walls standing. Our neglect could not be camouflaged, but the Missus, she’d hang little bits of cloth on the window and add dandelion flowers to a tin can, hoping to add a touch of pretty.

Just a mile away, majestically, stood the big house. Cruel in its taunting of us as it was painted and scrubbed and loved on—even by those who hated it. It defied the old man’s hands of time. Tick, tick, tick.

Every inch forward of its hand proclaimed a litany.

Poor folk got it bad. Poor folk got it bad. We chanted out of walls with exposed spaces.

We tried hard, this holding on of bones. We struggled when it rained; our roofs had few shingles, more wet than dry, more holes than substance. The hearth hungered. No remembered warmth dwelled here.

I saw the change when the doors fell, one by one. Then it was the disrespect—no knock—just folk walking inside without a “Come in and sit a spell” invite. No longer hardworking folk, slaves, sharecroppers, but now, drug-addled brains lighting up and dozing off. A few of us went up in flames while others watched and bled rusted nails.

One of us lost our balance, teetered . . . and fell over. Me and the other shacks yelled back and forth about it.

No reason to whisper now. No one to listen.

We were ready. Maybe some child could rumble through the wood and find a piece left good enough to make a kite and fly me down the street.

Free.








Colette R. Harrell
 made her debut as an author with the book, The Devil Made Me Do It. As a published author, she has enjoyed meeting her readers; for her, it’s all surreal. She holds a master’s degree and worked as a director of social services, which allowed her a front-row seat to the conflict and struggles of everyday people. 

Her day is filled as an Author, Playwright, Story Editor, Wife, Mother, Grandmother, and child of God. She wears many titles allowing twenty-four hours a day to meet the challenge. 

 Her goal in writing is to engage readers and provide them with golden nuggets of wisdom that feed and titillate. Her biggest lesson is that it takes a village to raise a dream. She loves and appreciates her village. 

She prays everything God has for you manifests in your life. And that you stretch and reach for it! 

Colette’s latest book is the historical/interracial/supernatural/paranormal Later.

You can visit her website at Coletteharrell.com  or connect with her on TwitterFacebookGoodreads or Instagram.






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⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐S'mores Siren Song by Virginia Barlow @virgini35142126 #SmoresSirenSong #ParanormalRomance #Fantasy

 

Addy is a siren forced between siren or human form until a handsome Coast Guard arrives in town and the choice becomes easy…


By Virginia Barlow


Addy Townsend runs an ice cream parlor in Mystic Cove, Maine. Cursed to spend her days human and her nights as a siren, she has until her twenty-fifth birthday to make her decision. Fighting against as corporate fishing company to preserve the lifestyle and well being of the locals, she asks for help and Commander Benjamin Yeates of the Coast Guard arrives to investigate her allegations. As a marine biologist, he is very interested in the rumors of a mermaid in the cove and wants to collect DNA for study. He falls hard and fast for Addy before he discovers there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Book Information

Release Date: July 6, 2022

Publisher:  Wild Rose Press

Kindle eBook: 86 pages; $3.99

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3cASLNS 






The boat turned around and hummed away from shore.

Adysson sucked in a much-needed breath of relief. She’d deal with the rumors of a mermaid later. Right now, the importance of clothes outweighed anything else. She glanced at the beach and found it deserted.

Making a beeline for the chest holding her terry robe before any more prying eyes spied her, she stepped from the water, retrieved the garment, slipped her arms through the sleeves, and cinched the belt.

Relieved, she turned and walked right into a human wall adorned with black wavy hair and sultry blue eyes.

“Oh! I…uh…didn’t see you there.” Her voice quivered with tension. Damn! Damn! Damn!

“I would say it’s pretty obvious.” His dark gaze roamed over her too hot face to her bare toes and back up. “Nice, uh, robe you’ve got there.” He glanced up and down the beach. His gaze fell to the waterproof bin at their feet. “I didn’t realize Mystic Cove had a nudist beach.”

Her gaze shot up to his. “We don’t. This beach belongs to me. See the No Trespassing sign?”

She pointed at a sign next to them and waited for his reaction.

He stood a head taller and wore a navy shirt open at the neck and navy trousers. A grin crossed his face.

“What’s the penalty for skinny dipping here?” His amused expression did a once over her body before

gazing into her eyes.

Heat flamed her face. “A thousand bucks and up to six months jail time. Do you plan to turn me in?”

His gaze darkened and dropped to the V in her robe. “No.”

Adysson swallowed and shifted her feet. She’d never been this close to such an attractive man before.

“The fine varies up and down the coast.” He gazed at the water behind her head for a moment and then

returned to her face. His voice dropped to a sexy drawl.

“Since this is a private beach, I’ll let you off with a verbal warning.”

Confused, she frowned. “What?”

He took a leather billfold from his front shirt pocket and flipped a badge at her. “I’m Coast Guard

Commander Benjamin Yeates. My friends call me Ben.”

Adysson groaned. Her knight in shining armor arrived to slay Marshal International, and she stumbled into him naked. “Adysson Townsend. My friends call me Addy, but I don’t think we qualify as friends.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve seen more of you than most, I’m betting. So I’d say we were friends.”

She chose to ignore his comment. “Can you arrest me? I thought your authority ended at the shore.”

“I can go anywhere as long as it’s tied to my investigation.” A gleam entered his dark eyes. He leaned closer. “Do you want me to arrest you? I’ve got a set of cuffs in my truck, but I can think of a better use for them than taking you in.” His breath brushed across her cheek, and desire glittered in his eyes.










Virginia Barlow
 has a great zest for life and loves her family. She likes to crochet, knit and quilt, and likes to make blankets for her grandchildren. She bakes a little and cooks when she has to. Roses are her passion and at one time she had over a hundred rose plants in her yard of various colors.

Virginia has always been an avid reader and loves being an author. Seeing her stories in print are one of the finest things in her life, next to her family and friends.

Her latest book is the paranormal romance fantasy, S’mores Siren Song.

You can visit Virginia’s website at https://www.virginia-barlow.com or connect with her on TwitterGoodreads and Facebook.



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