⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐THE WILLING by Lindsay Lees #dystopian⭐


Welcome to Ovoidia where every woman can be approached for immediate sex by any man…


By Lindsay Lees

Title: THE WILLING
Author: Lindsay Lees
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 299
Genre: Dystopian



In less than a year, fifteen-year-old Gypsy Capone will be considered a woman in Ovoidia, a “utopian” city-state where every woman can be approached for immediate sex by any man, where curving architecture adds weird whimsy, sporks are the only cutlery, and true intimacy between the genders is a sign of suspect subversion. After all, if a woman just plays along, she’ll also do her job and have children, with the reward of a fine home in the “Communities,” where she and the other “Mamas” live together in harmony with everything they need. Right?

The irony: Diam and Isis, the two leaders of Ovoidia, are themselves females. Fun, yes! And just below the surface, perversely sinister. They personally execute these precise sacrifices by women to establish their “happy,” absurdly totalitarian utopia, and are backed up by their chosen army of male “crusaders,” enforcing a crime-free, fully controlled society.

Men are relegated to work in the “City” where they may “enjoy”—right there on the street if they wish—any woman they want and are welcome to satisfy their sexual and emotional needs at establishments called Gaje Clubs where only the most “gifted” among women are chosen to work.

Not surprisingly, in Ovoidia women have evolved until they feel nothing of sexual pleasure. But in Gypsy’s deepest heart, she realizes her own dark secret: she is the exception. Next she discovers to her horror that her secret, if known, could result in the ultimate punishment—genital mutilation.

To save her body and even her soul, Gypsy chooses a dangerous path—to single-handedly confront this scary and absurd world. She has the support of her allegiant sister Sadie and Miles Devine, a rogue, secretly gay crusader, and also “Doctor,” a morally questionable physician to help her. But none of them fathom the levels of paradox, incongruity, and twisted evil they will soon face, and the ride becomes something even Gypsy could have never imaged.

PRAISE

The Willing is stunning in its brutality as well as its sensitivity! Absolute must read. We all have a piece of Gypsy in us. We must consider our potential future as women now with eyes wide open.”–Amazon Reviewer

“The Willing is an unusually deep commentary on a malignant dysfunction in our society, dressed in fishnet utopian stockings. While the premise and its sensual details push the boundaries of belief, a community that is ostensibly focused on the greater good but is governed by fear and hypocrisy fits perfectly in the dystopian genre. Gypsy’s character is flawed and immature in many ways, but her shield-like honesty is refreshing among a sea of conformists. A rather feminist piece filled with satire on the state of equality, The Willing is weighty and serious in its message, and sad in its reflection of how women are treated in our modern world. For a change from the norm, Lindsay Lees provides a gripping story that will have you thinking deeply about the importance of the relationships in your life.”–Jennifer Jackson from IndiesToday.com







In a basement meeting room of the Head Gaje’s oval-spiral Headquarters, an arched doorway slid open. Doctor Gino’s tired, wrinkled eyes also bolted open; he had only been resting them. He’d practically been dragged from his bed, after all. Ovoidia’s Chief Crusader, Rigby Katz, entered the hermetical, bleach-white room holding his round helmet, nestled under his thick, toned arm. Eyes bright and vigilant—a caffeine glow—he must have only just finished his shift, Doctor thought. He had been a Crusader for over thirty years but had the good fortune of not appearing his age. Rigby scanned the room like a robot from Robocop or Terminator, one of the Pre-Ultimate Revolution movies. After completing a thorough assessment, he surveyed the white leather office chair where Doctor sat with his liver-spotted hands folded on the round table. 

"Oh good. I'm not the first to arrive." Crusader Katz clomped in wearing heavy black boots, clean as the day they were made. "Gives me anxiety waiting around, wondering if I'm at the right place. Easy to get lost down here."

A round clock above the arched doorway swept past the seconds. It was almost three A.M. Doctor hadn’t expected the tribunal meeting to take place so late.

"Do you know why we're having the meeting now?" Doctor asked, casually.

Rigby regarded Doctor with amusement, rather like the way a mama looks at her child when she asks where babies come from. "Yes, the Head Gajes had an inauguration party to attend.”

Doctor yawned. So much for not having time to get a coffee.

Crusader Katz removed a piece of spearmint gum and his cell phone from his utility belt. He owned the newest model, a razor-thin silver flip-phone with a peek window on the front. When he flipped it open, the interior buttons reflected electric blue on his milky eyes. Doctor didn't know why cell phones required upgrades. So long as they served their primary function who cared what they looked like?

Crusader Katz snapped the phone shut and shoved it back in his belt. "No service." He sighed.

"We're too far down," Doctor said, pleased with himself.

The steady hum of an air purifier oscillated from a corner. A few stray bubbles burped in a standing water cooler. Doctor eased a ballpoint pen from his lab coat and hovered it over the table, pinching the cap to make sure it was firmly secured. He was forever spilling ink or coffee on the ubiquitous white leather.

“I forgot my notepad,” Doctor said, surprised at his error. While most communications in Ovoidia were transcribed digitally, Doctor preferred to handwrite his notes for archival purposes.

He experienced nostalgia for the tactile fluidity the pen afforded the fingers. “Do you happen to have an extra pad or a piece of paper?” he asked Crusader Katz.

Just then, the meeting room door opened to the heady scent of a dozen steamed bouquets, as though the Head Gajes had bathed in the buckets of wilting flowers being sold on the streets in the mid-day heat. Diam, the eldest of the Head Gajes strolled, chin up, into the room. Her stilettos tapped like hail on glass as she walked across the marble floor. She wore a black satin skirt flared above her knee. Her skin shone, glossy and supple. Isis, the younger Head Gaje, teetered in behind her, gripping a round red lollipop on a white stick.

 













Lindsay Lees is originally from Los Angeles and holds dual citizenship in the U.S. and the United Kingdom, and while growing up and later in college, she split her time between the two countries. Lindsay earned a B.A. in 2008 from Manchester Metropolitan University, and next an M.F.A.in Creative Writing from California College of the Arts. The Willing is Lindsay’s debut novel. She currently lives a quiet Southern life with her husband and a houseful of pets. Visit her website or connect with her at FACEBOOK and GOODREADS.





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⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Words Kill by David Myles Robinson @dnrobinsonwrite #Thriller #Suspense⭐

  

Words Kill is a story of loss, violence, and racism; love, hate, and discovery. It is a story of then … and now.




By David Myles Robinson



Title: WORDS KILL
Author: David Myles Robinson
Publisher: Terra Nova Books
Pages: 250
Genre: Suspense



Famed reporter Russell Blaze is dead. It appears to be an accident, but after Russ’s funeral, his son, Cody, finds a letter in which his father explains that the death may have been murder. It directs Cody to Russ’s unfinished memoir for clues as to what may have happened. The opening words are: On the night of October 16, 1968, I uttered a sentence that would haunt me for the rest of my life. The sentence was, “Someone should kill that motherfucker.”

As Cody delves into the memoir, a window opens into a tragic past and thrusts the still-burning embers of another time’s radical violence into the political reality of the present. History that once seemed far away becomes a deeply personal immersion for Cody into the storied heyday of the Haight: drugs, sex, war protesters, right-wing militias, ground-breaking journalism—and the mysterious Gloria, who wanders into his father’s pad one day to just “crash here for a while until things calm down.”

Cody discovers aspects of his father’s life he never knew, and slowly begins to understand the significance of those words his father spoke in 1968.

Words Kill is a story of loss, violence, and racism; love, hate, and discovery. It is a story of then … and now.






Chapter One

            As Russell Blaze emerged from the public parking garage on Montgomery, the famous San Francisco fog enveloped him and sent a chill through his body. He pulled his brown houndstooth sport coat around his chest, crossed his arms, and stuck his hands in his armpits. Despite the biting, wet cold, Russ smiled to himself. It was his first time in the city since the great pandemic of 2020, and it was good to see people out on the streets again.

            As he turned onto Columbus, the wind coming off the bay hit him. He lowered his head and strode forward. He didn’t have far to go. He was meeting his son, Cody, at the historic Tadich Grill, which Russ was pleased to see had survived the shutdowns. He looked up and saw the sign not far ahead. Then his attention was drawn to a striking woman who was walking toward him. Her stride seemed purposeful as her high heels clicked on the pavement. She looked to be around Russ’s age, seventyish, and wore a gray wool pantsuit with a white blouse. Her gray hair was cut short. As they passed, Russ studied her face. Her green eyes darted his way for a brief moment, and Russ imagined some past familiarity. Was she someone he knew? Someone he should have acknowledged? She hadn’t seemed to recognize him.

            Russ saw Cody standing at the entrance to the restaurant and put the woman out of his mind. Cody, in his early thirties, stood a little over six feet tall, about two inches taller than Russ. He had inherited his father’s rugged good looks but wore his hair short while Russ had spent his life sporting long hair, one of his enduring holdovers from his hippie days in the Haight Ashbury. A moment later, father and son hugged before they entered the restaurant.

They were seated in a dark wood-paneled booth. Russ ordered a vodka martini. Cody ordered a Coke. He was on his lunch break and was due in federal court in a few hours.

Cody watched his father studying the menu and smiled. “Why are you even looking at the menu?” he asked. “We both know you’re going to have the Cioppino and a glass of Pinot Grigio.”

            Russ looked up and grinned. “Oh, we know that, do we? Mister smarty pants lawyer.” The grin disappeared as fast as it had appeared as he looked back down at the menu. Cody said nothing but continued to watch his father stare at a menu he knew by heart. Russ had aged well, Cody thought, although his chiseled face was well-lined and his brown eyes, usually intense and piercing, would sometimes drift into a faraway look.

 After a moment, Cody was struck by the thought that Russ wasn’t really looking at the menu at all. He was thinking about something else. That, in and of itself, wasn’t surprising. Although Russ had been an exemplary father, never missing a soccer game or a debate club tournament or any of the myriad events parents were expected to attend, Cody had noticed from a young age that Russ would sometimes space out as if his internal attention became focused on something else. It would start with that faraway look, and at times Cody thought he saw a kind of sadness in Russ’s expression. But it was always fleeting, and more often than not, Cody assumed he’d imagined it.

            Russ must have felt his son watching him; he looked up again, smiled, and put the menu down. A moment later, as an ancient waiter asked to take their order, Russ said he’d like the Cioppino and a glass of Pinot Grigio.

            When the waiter left, Cody asked, “Something on your mind, Dad? You seem distracted.”

            Russ gave a small shake of his head. “No, not really. Just before I arrived, I passed a woman on the street I thought I recognized, but I can’t reel it in. It bugs me when that happens.”

            “Give yourself a break,” Cody said. “You’ve interviewed thousands of people in your career. You can’t expect to remember every one of them.”

            Russ shrugged and drank the last of his martini. “Especially at my advanced age,” he said. “Tell me what’s happening in your world. Anything new?”

            Cody smiled. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m in the process of settling a major discrimination case.”

            “Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

            “Not too much. I’m sure the defendant will insist on a confidentiality clause.” Cody paused and took a sip of his Coke. “Let’s just say it’s a big tech firm that allowed and, at times, even nurtured an environment of sexual harassment.” Cody paused again and then let out a small snort of a laugh. “With a dash of racism. We got our hands on a bunch of internal emails. One of my favorites was from the CFO that referred to a Black woman in accounting. The email said he’d like to get some of that ‘brown sugar,’ ” Cody said, making air quotes.

            “Oh, my.”

            “That’s what we said. Anyway, I’ve been lead counsel on it and have worked my ass off, so it’s very rewarding.” He grinned again. “Not to mention it will be a big payday.”

            The two men were silent while the waiter served their food and poured Russ’s wine. When he left, Russ raised his glass in a toast. “I’m proud of you, Son.”

            What Russ didn’t say was how bittersweet it made him feel that Cody had become a civil rights attorney. That was a story he’d save for another day.

            But Cody never saw his father again.














David Myles Robinson has always had a passion for writing. During the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, while in college, Robinson worked as a free-lance writer for several magazines and was a staff writer for a weekly minority newspaper in Pasadena, California, called The Pasadena Eagle. However, as he himself admits, upon graduating from San Francisco State University, he decided against the ‘starving writer’ route and went to law school, at the University of San Francisco School of Law. It was there that he met his wife, Marcia Waldorf. After graduating from law school in 1975, the two moved to Honolulu, Hawaii and began practicing law. Robinson became a trial lawyer, specializing in personal injury and workers’ compensation law. Waldorf eventually became a District Court and ultimately a Circuit Court judge.

Upon retiring in 2010, Robinson completed his first novel, Unplayable Lie, which was published by BluewaterPress LLC, in 2010. He has since published five more novels, three of which are legal thrillers set in Honolulu: Tropical Lies, Tropical Judgments, Tropical Doubts, and Tropical Deception. His other three novels are The Pinochet Plot, Son of Saigon, and Words Kill. Robinson has also published a book of short travel stories, Conga Line on the Amazon.

Robinson and Waldorf divided their time between Honolulu and their second home in Taos, NM for seven years before finally deciding to see what it’s like to be full-time mainlanders again. They now live in Taos, where Robinson can pursue his non-writing passions of golf, ski, and travel.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

Websitedavidmylesrobinson.com

Twitterhttp://www.twitter.com/DMRobinsonWrite

Facebookhttp://www.facebook.com/DavidMylesRobinson

Instagram – http://www.instagram.com/davidmylesrobinson


OTHER BOOKS BY DAVID MYLES ROBINSON



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⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐GROUP by Lynne Turner #Mystery #Crime #Thriller⭐

  


An insider’s look at what goes on in the mind of a psychotherapist and in the secret lives of his clients…



By Lynne Turner

Title: GROUP
Author: Lynne Turner
Publisher: Friesen Press
Pages: 101
Genre: Mystery / Crime Thriller



Dr. William Osgood, a Beverly Hills psychologist, must make a quick decision. Seventeen-year-old Loretta, his most troubled patient, has just fainted on his couch, and his Thursday night group is about to arrive. Knowing that allowing Loretta to stay is ethically murky and potentially perilous to the group’s dynamic, Dr. Osgood begins to consider what might happen once Loretta opens her eyes. He feels that Loretta will be safe – but even the good doctor can’t possibly predict the results of his decision.

Loretta, as it happens, has come to be Dr. Osgood’s patient under somewhat mysterious circumstances. Her story rivets the six members of Dr. Osgood’s weekly group, who themselves struggle with inner demons and life conflicts; when a bigtime talent agent is shot, the doctor recognizes that each of the group’s members may have had a motive. These psychological twists and turns – as well as Dr. Osgood’s own as he copes with a bitter divorce and downsized

lifestyle – pave the way for the captivating story told in the debut mystery GROUP, by Lynne Turner. The thriller’s author knows her subjects well: she herself is a psychotherapist in Beverly Hills, and deftly weaves the lives and maladies of her characters with elements of mystery and surprise, set against the backdrop of the fringes of Hollywood and Beverly Hills.

“None of the characters in the book are based on my actual clients. However, the many compelling cases in my work, along with my deep love for Los Angeles, inspired me to write GROUP,” explains Turner, a lifelong fan of mystery writers. “My years of practicing psychotherapy have enhanced my ability to create characters that readers experience as real people, as opposed to caricatures.

“What is underscored in GROUP is the discrepancy between outward appearance and the actual genesis of one’s dynamics and one’s pain. In writing it, I wanted to give readers a ringside seat inside a therapist’s office and allow them to ‘hear’ the intimate details of each group member’s life, as well as to give them the rare opportunity to hear a therapist’s internal dialogue and witness his private life.”

Equally authentic is the geographic setting Turner provides, in part because another of her passions, Los Angeles street photography, gives her a literal close-up view of the city and its denizens.

“The many cultural references drawn from life in Southern California are, on the surface, funny and absurd,” Turner notes. “However, they also reveal a great deal about the values and aspirations of many Americans. The social injustices are gently exposed with humor and compassion. I’d like to think readers will be entertained, especially in these troubled times.”

By book’s end, not only is the mystery solved, but the characters – psychologist and patients alike — have grown and begun to heal, and a romance has bloomed. “GROUP is indeed a story about a particular group,” Turner says. “However, the word ‘group’ accrues meaning as the story develops. It demonstrates what can be accomplished with group effort, strength and understanding.”






After the group had left, there was an eerie quiet. Even the wheezing of the cleaning crew’s vacuum cleaner had ceased. The doctor opened one of his desk’s secret compartments, which was empty save a single glass and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. He poured himself a generous double. His lips surprised him. They trembled as he took his first horrid swallow; the second one went down easier. He could see the Hollywood sign from his office window tonight. The Santa Ana winds had cleaned up the city. It was now flooded by an amber wash that was so devastatingly beautiful his throat tightened unexpectedly.
 

— GROUP (p. 54)













Lynne Turner is a psychotherapist in practice in Beverly Hills, California, where she has practiced for over 30 years. She grew up on the East Coast, in the aptly named seaside town of Point Pleasant, New Jersey. After earning her Bachelor of Arts degree in English Literature from Montclair State University, she moved to Los Angeles, where she earned her Master of Science degree in psychology at California State University, Los Angeles. In addition to her practice and her writing, she is a Los Angeles-focused street photographer, which has afforded her the opportunity to take a closer look at the human condition from yet another perspective. She lives with her daughter and two dogs in the Hollywood Hills. Visit her WEBSITE or connect with her on INSTAGRAM.







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