Sunday, April 2, 2023

⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Her Alibi by Mary L. Schmidt #memoir #forensic #psychological

 

“Her Alibi is another example of where reality trumps fiction and Schmidt must be commended for finding the courage to pen this book.” 

- Readers Favorite

 

Title: Her Alibi
Author: Mary L. Schmidt
Publisher: M. Schmidt Productions
Pages: 76
Genre: Forensic Memoir / Forensic Psychology

Visions of her Cherokee grandmother, Cordie, flashed through Mary’s mind as her mother, Marguerite, informed her that her stepfather shot himself and was in the hospital. Oh no! Did she use me last night? She’d never use her scapegoat! No, she couldn’t! Even Marguerite wouldn’t sink that low! Or would she? Marguerite had always been abusive and vile to most people, and especially to her children and husbands, but would she shoot Paul? Chills raked Mary and triggered her shuddering. Was she more shocked that her mother shot her stepfather with murderous intent, or that she left Mary as her alibi?

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3mKRbOw 

Barnes&Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-alibi-mary-l-schmidt/1142118167 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62218232-her-alibi  

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/her-alibi/id6443334045 


Book Excerpt  


“Chills raked Mary and triggered her shuddering. Was she more shocked that her mother shot her stepfather with murderous intent, or that she left Mary as her alibi?”

Before I get to this shooting, I want to fill in background so that you understand sociopathic people and the rage they can present to another person or persons. My mother was a sociopath. Her rage was uncontrolled, and she acted fast, aggressively, and with vengeance. It’s important for the reader to have a full background.    

As I grew up, I wanted to believe that my mother was a good mother, but sadly that never happened, she never was. My mother, Marguerite, always seemed to think that she was the best mother, perfect even, but not all mothers are made the same as I found out from a very young age. 

I remember my second Christmas at age two years. We had a cedar Christmas tree with lights and tinsel.  Somehow, I found some small, glass Christmas lights and I had them in my hands. No one stopped me. Possibly no one noticed. I took my pretty treasures and sat behind the heating stove in our small house on North Grand Avenue. For some reason only a two-year-old would understand, I put one of the light bulbs in my mouth and bit it down. I broke the glass, and I didn't get hurt, and I thought oh that was a cool sound and so I broke the other one in my mouth! My mother, older brother and sister were in the same room, and my mother found me bleeding from my mouth behind the heating stove. She went into a ballistic rage! I was in trouble. She beat my butt and yelled at me all the way to the hospital in Lyons, KS, and she was quiet only while my stomach was pumped. No glass was left inside me, and I had one little cut on my tongue, and no stitches needed. I will never forget her rage at me, and that is probably why I remember the incident. 

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About the Author

Mary L. Schmidt writes under her given name and a pen name, S. Jackson, along with her husband Michael, pen name A Raymond. She grew up in a small Kansas (USA) town and has lived in more than one state since then. At this time, Mary and her husband split their time between homes in Kansas and Colorado as they love the mountains and off-road four-wheeling. Traveling is one of their most favorite things to do and Mary always has a book to read on her Kindle. Books are one of her favorite things. When she was younger, it seemed like every time she turned around, a new library card was needed due to the current one being stamped complete. Diving into a good book made any day perfect and you would be surprised at the number of books she read over and over. 

As a child, Mary drew paper dolls, and clothes for them, using watercolor as her medium when painting scenes, especially flowers. She continued with art in high school exploring a wide variety of mediums such as jewelry making, ceramics, leather works, drawing, painting and more! Her creative loves to be an amateur shutterbug and she has an online art gallery

In college, she went into the sciences, and received a bachelor’s degree in the Science of Nursing. Throughout her nursing career, Michael assisted Mary in her work with The American Cancer Society, March of Dimes, Cub and Boy Scouts, and sponsored children alongside his wife on music trips. Mary’s nursing career was highly successful, and she hung up her nursing hat in December 2012. 

Mary and Michael love to read, fish, play poker, go Jeeping, and travel, especially to visit their grandson, Austin, and granddaughter, Emma. 

Website:  www.whenangelsfly.net  

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryLSchmidt

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MMSchmidtAuthorGDDonley 

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/mschmidtphotography/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/marylschmidt/

Art Gallery: https://www.deviantart.com/mschmidtartwork/gallery



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⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐The Shade Under the Mango Tree by Evy Journey #womensliteraryfiction

 

"Gripping. One of the most beautiful books I’ve read in a long time." 

-- International Review of Books

Title: The Shade Under the Mango Tree
Author: Evy Journey
Publisher: Sojourner Books
Pages: 288
Genre: Women's Literary Fiction / Cultural Heritage Fiction

After two heartbreaking losses, Luna wants adventure. Something and somewhere very different from the affluent, sheltered home in California and Hawaii where she grew up. An adventure in which she can also make some difference. She ends up in place steeped in an ancient culture and a deadly history.

Raised by her grandmother in a Honolulu suburb, she moves to her parents’ home in California at thirteen and meets her brothers for the first time. Grandma persuades her to write a journal whenever she’s lonely or overwhelmed as a substitute for someone to whom she could reveal her intimate thoughts.

Lucien, a worldly, well-traveled young architect, finds a stranger’s journal at a café. He has qualms and pangs of guilt about reading it. But they don’t stop him. His decision to go on reading changes his life.

Months later, they meet at a bookstore where Luna works and which Lucien frequents. Fascinated by his stories and his adventurous spirit, Luna volunteers for the Peace Corps. Assigned to Cambodia, she lives with a family whose parents are survivors of the Khmer Rouge genocide forty years earlier. What she goes through in a rural rice-growing village defies anything she could have imagined. Will she leave this world unscathed?

Inspired by the healing effects of writing, this is an epistolary tale of love—between an idealistic young woman and her grandmother and between the young woman and a young architect. It’s a tale of courage, resilience of the human spirit, and the bonds that bring diverse people together.

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08KFMR9SG

Also available as an audiobook: 

https://www.amazon.com/Shade-Under-Mango-Tree-Between/dp/B09X7CPYFD/

Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-shade-under-the-mango-tree-evy-journey/1137986157?ean=2940166256980

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-shade-under-the-mango-tree-1

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-shade-under-the-mango-tree/id16069


Book Excerpt  

 


Prologue

Ov’s thin upper body is slumped over his crossed legs, his forehead resting on the platform. His brown, wiry arms lie limp, the right one extended forward, hand dangling over the edge of the platform. Dried blood is splattered on his head, and on the collar, right shoulder, and back of his old short-sleeved white shirt.

It seems fitting that he died where he used to spend most of his time when he wasn’t on the rice fields—sitting on a corner of the bamboo platform in the ceiling-high open space under the house. It’s where you get refreshing breezes most afternoons, after a long day of work.

The policeman looks down at Ov’s body as if he’s unsure what to do next. He lays down his camera and the gun in a plastic bag at one end of the platform untainted by splatters of gelled blood.

He steps closer to the body, anchors himself with one knee on top of the platform, and bends over the body. Hooking his arms underneath Ov’s shoulders and upper arms, he pulls the body up, and carefully lays it on its back. He straightens the legs.

He steps off the platform. Stands still for a few seconds to catch his breath. He turns to us and says, “It’s clear what has happened. I have all the pictures I need.”

He points to his camera, maybe to make sure we understand. We have watched him in silence, three zombies still in shock. Me, standing across the bamboo platform from him. Mae and Jorani sitting, tense and quiet, on the hammock to my left.

Is that it? Done already? I want to ask him: Will he have the body taken away for an autopsy? I suppose that’s what is routinely done everywhere in cases like this. But I don’t know enough Khmer.

As if he sensed my unspoken question, he glances at me. A quick glance that comes with a frown. He seems perplexed and chooses to ignore me.

He addresses the three of us, like a captain addressing his troop. “You can clean up.”

The lingering frown on his brow softens into sympathy. He’s gazing at Jorani, whose mournful eyes remain downcast. He looks away and turns toward Mae. Pressing his hands together, he bows to her. A deeper one than the first he gave her when she and Jorani arrived.

He utters Khmer words too many and too fast for me to understand. From the furrowed brow and the look in his eyes, I assume they are words of sympathy. He bows a third time, and turns to go back to where he placed the gun and camera. He picks them up and walks away.

For a moment or two, I stare at the figure of the policeman walking away.  Then I turn to Jorani. Call him back. Don’t we have questions? I can ask and you can translate, if you prefer. But seeing her and Mae sitting as still and silent as rocks, hands on their laps, and eyes glazed as if to block out what’s in front of them, the words get trapped in my brain. Their bodies, rigid just moments before, have gone slack, as if to say: What else can anyone do? What’s done cannot be undone. All that’s left is to clean up, as the policeman said. Get on with our lives.

My gaze wanders again toward the receding figure of the policeman on the dirt road, the plastic bag with the gun dangling in his right hand. Does it really matter how Cambodian police handles Ov’s suicide? I witnessed it. I know the facts. And didn’t I read a while back how Buddhism frowns upon violations on the human body? The family might object against cutting up Ov—the way I’ve seen on TV crime shows—just to declare with certainty what caused his death.

I take in a long breath. I have done all I can and must defer to Cambodian beliefs and customs.

But I can’t let it go yet. Ov chose to end his life in a violent way and I’m curious: Do the agonies of his last moments show on his face? I steal another look.

All I could gather, from where I stand, is life has definitely gone out of every part of him. His eyes are closed and immobile. The tic on his inanimate cheeks hasn’t left a trace. The tic that many times was the only way I could tell he had feelings. Feelings he tried to control or hide. Now, his face is just an expressionless brown mask. Maybe everyone really has a spirit, a soul that rises out of the body when one dies, leaving a man-size mass of clay.

I stare at Ov’s body, lying in a darkened, dried pool of his own blood, bits of his skull and brain scattered next to his feet where his head had been. At that moment, it hits me that this would be the image of Ov I will always remember. I shudder.

My legs begin to buckle underneath me and I turn around, regretting that last look. With outstretched hands, I take a step toward the hammock. Jorani rises to grab my hands, and she helps me sit down next to Mae.

Could I ever forget? Could Mae and Jorani? Would the image of Ov in a pool of blood linger in their memories like it would in mine?

I know I could never tell my parents what happened here this afternoon. But could I tell Lucien? The terrible shock of watching someone, in whose home I found a family, fire a gun to his head? And the almost as horrifying realization—looking back—that I knew what he was going to do, but I hesitated for a few seconds to stop him.

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About the Author

Evy Journey writes. Stories and blog posts. Novels that tend to cross genres. She’s also a wannabe artist, and a flâneuse.

Evy studied psychology (M.A., University of Hawaii; Ph.D. University of Illinois). So her fiction spins tales about nuanced characters dealing with contemporary life issues and problems. She believes in love and its many faces.

Her one ungranted wish: To live in Paris where art is everywhere and people have honed aimless roaming to an art form. She has visited and stayed a few months at a time.

Website or Blog: https://evyjourney.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ejourneywriter/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14845365.Evy_Journey



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⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Ascension by Kevin D. Miller #sciencefiction #scifi #fantasy

 

Ascension is the action-packed  sequel to Awakening that follows Leif’s journey to master the Berserker and Prevent Hel from  plunging the nine realms into a period of blood and darkness…

Title: Ascension: Book Two of the Berserker Chronicles
Author: Kevin D. Miller
Publisher: Bifrost Books
Pages: 318
Genre: Science Fiction / Fantasy

After his fateful fight in the bowls of an Asgardian prison, Leif returns to Midgard for  some much needed rest and recuperation. Unfortunately, his reprieve is interrupted when he is  unexpectedly attacked and once again pulled into a civil war between the gods. As he wrestles  with his past, Leif quickly learns his Berserker strength is no match when his enemies are the  gods themselves. In an attempt to grow stronger and control the rage within, Leif sets out to  track down a surviving Berserker clan that may hold the secret to mastering the gold-like  power the Berserker promises. Will Leif learn the secret and ascend?

Ascension is the action-packed sequel to Awakening that follows Leif’s journey to  master the Berserker and prevent Hel from plunging the nine realms into a period of blood and  darkness.

You can pick up your copy at Amazon → https://a.co/d/eSiJz


Book Excerpt  


Chapter 4  

The electrical storm crashed around Leif in a terrifying staccato, burning his  retinas in the process. A wave of static energy washed over him, tingling his skin as the earth  shook from the cascade of lightning bolts that slammed into the ground, terrifyingly close.  Then, as quickly as the storm appeared, it was gone. Bright yellow sunlight spilled over Leif as  his nose was filled with the thick smell of ozone. He blinked to clear the flashing spots from his  vision; he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Thor standing not two feet away from  him. The mountain of a god was dressed for war. His body was encased from shoulder to  boots in gleaming silver-plated armor. His trusty war hammer, Mjolnir, was held firm in his right  hand. Glancing at Leif, the thunder god gave him a quick smile before returning his focus to  Fenrir and Ra. Following his gaze, Leif was shocked to see, unlike him, the two dark gods had  not come out of the storm unscathed.  

A look of pure hatred wafted from Ra; the ancient god seethed in anger so palpable Leif  thought he could taste it. The god’s simmering orange eyes flared like the fires of Duat, causing  the berserked Leif to take an involuntary step backward. Ra’s shirtless torso was covered in  forked electrical burns, and his leather pants had been ripped to shreds from repeated  lightning strikes.  

Likewise, Fenrir appeared to have fared no better. His fur cloak was gone, probably  disintegrated in the attack, while his shirt and pants were in tatters. He too had a look of  outrage on his face, but hiding behind that façade, Leif saw true fear. With Ra at his side, Leif  knew the damned wolf couldn’t back down, not when he talked such a big game moments  ago.  

Bolstered by Thor’s presence, Leif let out a war cry, swinging his axes in a complex  pattern, warming up for the fight. He prepared himself to charge the battered gods, but a  gauntleted hand clamped down on Leif’s shoulder, giving him pause.  

“No, my friend,” Thor said in his thundering baritone. “You are in no condition to fight. I  know your blood boils, but you must know you are outclassed. Let me deal with them,” Thor  said, taking a meaningful step forward. As if to accentuate his point, lightning burst from the  Aesir’s armor, momentarily encasing the god before flickering out. 

Leif desperately wished to join the fight, but a tiny part of him knew he wasn’t strong  enough. If he were to fight, he would just get in Thor’s way or, gods forbid, get himself killed.  Gritting his teeth, Leif remembered his vow to not let his weakness be the cause of his  comrades’ deaths. So, he held himself back. The sheer rationality of his control surprised him.  When he had first awakened to his powers, the only thought he could muster while berserked  was who to fight next. Now, he was capable of at least a modicum of rational thought while  maintaining his berserked state. If he survived Ragnarok, he will be a much more deadly  warrior.  

Leif stepped back to give Thor some space, while Ra and Fenrir looked at each other  for a silent second. Ra unsheathed his strange sickle-shaped sword, and it glowed with the  same amber orange of a sunrise, perfectly matching his smoldering eyes. Fenrir bared his teeth  in a snarl as he soundlessly unsheathed his blade.  

The atmosphere grew still, as if the very weather was holding its breath. Then the trio  moved. It was then that Leif fully understood why Thor had restrained him. As the gods moved  back and forth on the street, minor sonic booms rang out as all three warriors cut loose. Even  berserked, Leif could barely follow their movements, let alone comprehend what they were  doing. The air and ground around them shook with their fearsome power.  

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About the Author

 

 

Kevin D. Miller is an attorney in Southern California who spends his two hours a day  commuting to work either listening to sci-fi/fantasy books on Audible or plotting out the  storylines for his future books. When he isn’t working, Kevin can be found spending time  with his girlfriend Amy and their dog, Riley. Kevin enjoys writing, ceramics, playing  video games, kayaking in Big Bear and enjoying the ocean air in Newport Beach.

Website: www.BifrostBooks.com  

Twitter: www.twitter.com/bifrost_books  

Facebook: www.facebook.com/bifrost_books



Sponsored By:


⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Mermaid Beach by Sheila Roberts #WomensFiction #Romance

 


"Blooming with heartfelt charm and swoon-worthy moments..." 

- Woman’s World Magazine

 

Title: Mermaid Beach
Author: Sheila Roberts
Publisher: Harlequin Mira
Pages:
Genre: Women's Fiction/Romance

Bonnie Brinks and her all-woman band, The Mermaids, are the pride of Moonlight Harbor. They’re the house band at The Drunken Sailor, and that’s just the right amount of fame for Bonnie. A lifetime ago, she went to Nashville to make it big, but she returned home with a broken heart and broken dreams. Now she’s got a comfortable life and a brilliant daughter, Avril, who plays for The Mermaids alongside Bonnie and Bonnie’s mother, Loretta.

Avril has big dreams of her own. Her life in Moonlight Harbor is good–she loves singing and playing guitar with The Mermaids, and she has the sweetest, most loyal boyfriend a girl could ask for–but it all feels so…small. She can’t help wondering if there’s something more out there for her. And she doesn’t understand why her mom won’t support her going to Nashville to find out.

Meanwhile, Bonnie threw in the towel on her love life long ago, but Loretta sure hasn’t. She’s determined to be swept off her feet, and she wants the same for her daughter. When the hunky new owner of The Drunken Sailor turns the tables on the band and Avril announces she’s leaving Moonlight Harbor, Bonnie’s comfortable life seems to be drifting away. Will these three generations of Mermaids find their happy endings on the Washington coast? Or will the change in the winds leave them all shipwrecked?

“Blooming with heartfelt charm and swoon-worthy moments…” Woman’s World Magazine

Release Date: April 25, 2023

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3D61pi2 

Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3J0dGs0

Target: https://bit.ly/3wlLGaS 

Walmart: https://bit.ly/3XFUB2c

Apple: https://apple.co/3kvheIu  

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61214883-mermaid-beach 

 


Book Excerpt  


LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? MEET J.J. AND BONNIE

It was a pleasant ride to the beach. Once he was off I-5 he was on highways that took him through stands of evergreens and logging towns with small houses, many of them forty years old, many of which were being refurbished.

Then he hit Moonlight Harbor with its crazy stone pillars at the entrance, still standing from when the town was first developed in the sixties. The place was a mixture of funky old and upbeat new, the buildings from both eras catering to visitors with restaurants, moped rentals, shops and a fun plex that offered bumper cars and go-carts for entertainment. A family of deer grazed on the grass in the meridian between the two one-way streets running through the town.

Another ten minutes and he was pulling into the driveway of Lee’s beach digs, a three-bedroom rambler with rock for lawn encased in a white picket fence. Lee and his wife were ready for him with a proper Thanksgiving leftover meal of turkey sandwiches, dressing and gravy, and cranberry sauce. Seeing the way they looked at each other about gave him heartburn. 

His ex had looked at him like that about a million years ago. Stupid, fool him. He was a walking morality tale, an example of what happened when a man wound up married to his job instead of his woman. If only she’d given him a fair chance to right that ship. 

“How’s your sandwich?” Glinda asked.

“Great,” he said. “Thanks. And thanks for inviting me down.”

“Sometimes a man’s gotta get some new scenery,” said Lee.

After they ate Glinda made them clean up the kitchen and left to check on things at the pub for Lee and hang out with some girlfriends. 

“She’s a great woman,” J.J. said. 

“That she is,” agreed Lee. “They’re still out there, dude.”

J.J. gave a cynical chuckle. “Yeah, I’m holding my breath.”

“While you’re holding your breath let’s play some cribbage. Tomorrow I’ll take you out to eat.”

They settled down with whiskey and cards and it was a pleasant evening. It sure beat sitting around the condo wondering if he ought to check out an internet dating site.

Saturday found him out on the beach in boots and a thick jacket with his buddy, working a clam gun to capture the elusive razor clam. A weak sun was out and the sand was damp and muddy and the air was crisp. A perfect day. They weren’t the only ones who thought so. The beach was thick with people, all in search of the same delight. 

“You should move down here,” Lee said, as he tossed a clam in their bucket. He wasn’t much taller than J.J. and was built like a tank. In their college days he’d mowed down his opponents on the football field just like one. He’d gotten his education thanks to a college scholarship. J.J. had waited tables and worked in restaurant kitchens. Glinda had already informed him he would be in charge of making the clam chowder for lunch.

“Yeah? So I can grow moss like you? It’s always wet.”

“Not in the summer.”

“Yeah, well let me know when you figure out how to make it summer all year long,” J.J. said.

“Oh, come on. You know you loved it when we went over to Westhaven and went fishing.”

“Just thinking about that halibut we caught makes my mouth water,” J.J. said.

“Fishing, clamming, kayaking on the canals, golfing – it’s the life.”

J.J. brushed the sand off his hands and studied his friend. “Why do I feel like I’m sitting in on a time share pitch?”

Lee shrugged and chuckled. “Just sayin’ it’s a good life down here.”

“For you. You got a great wife and your daughters live nearby.”

Lee sobered. “It sucks that things went sideways with Eloise.”

“It’s been three years. I’m over it.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. My life’s good. I like my freedom. Got no woman nagging me, no obligations.”

“That bad, huh?”

J.J. gave a rueful smile and shook his head. “Okay, so it’s not perfect.”

“Maybe you need a change.”

“Okay, what’s the hidden agenda?”

“No hidden agenda,” Lee said and suddenly got busy checking to see if they’d reached their limit of clams.

Yep, there was a hidden agenda.

Glinda proved it when, after lunch she said, “Aren’t you tired of city living yet, J.J.?”

He set down his glass of beer and looked from one to the other. “Spill, you two. What’s up?”

They exchanged guilty looks. “Well,” Lee said, “Just thought you might be interested in a new business opportunity.”

“Oh, no. You got sucked into a pyramid scheme,” J.J. said in horror. 

Lee made a face. “No.”

“The pub’s failing. You need a silent partner. No problem.” It would be the least he could do. He’d helped his buddy get into this mess.

J.J. had come down to Moonlight Harbor ten years earlier when his pal had told him about the little beach town pub he wanted to buy, had looked over the books with Lee and the owner, then given it a thumbs up, although he’d been concerned about Lee getting into the restaurant business. 

“It’s a tough business,” he’d cautioned. “When you buy a restaurant, it owns you.” He knew that from personal experience. 

“I can make a go of it,” Lee had said. “We want out of the city and Glinda’s up for it.”

“Okay, then,” J.J. had said.

He’d shared his expertise with his friend and Lee had done okay. But they hadn’t talked much in the last couple of years. Between getting divorced and getting his feet back under him J.J. had been a little distracted. Obviously, Lee’s investment had gone south.

“The pub’s doing great,” Lee said. 

Well, so much for that conclusion. “Then what’s up?”

“What’s up is that it’s time to sell the business. The girls are grown and one’s had the nerve to move out of state. Glinda wants to start traveling.”

“You want your life back.”

Lee chuckled. “Something like that. I was thinking maybe you might want yours back, too.”

So this was where they were going. J.J. held up a hand. “Oh, no. No more restaurants. Too much work.”

“Yeah, and you’re so busy.”

“I’ll admit I’m kind of at loose ends, but I don’t think I want to work that hard.”

“I’ve already done all the hard work.”

“Yeah, right.” When you owned a business, it owned you. And restaurants …

“Never mind,” said Lee. “Let’s go play some pool. You can check out the house band.”

“You got a house band? What are they, a bunch of grungy kids in their twenties?”

Lee smiled at that. “Not quite. It’s a chick band.”

“A chick band. Interesting. So, three grungy chicks in their twenties.”

“Nope. Mother, daughter and granddaughter. They had another but she’s off to Nashville to try and become a star. They’re still good though, especially the lead singer. That woman sings like an angel, sometimes like a little devil. And she is something fine to look at. They’ve really been packing in the crowds on the weekend.”

“That’s good.”

“The place is doing well,” said Lee. “I know you shouldn’t do business with friends, but since you were in the restaurant business and since you’re the man with the business degree, I thought I’d give you first crack at it.” He suddenly looked wistful. “I kind of hate to let the place go. It’s like losing a part of me.”

J.J. nodded. “I know how you feel. I hated to let go of my places. Did it all for nothing,” he said bitterly.

His words brought on an awkward silence. He should have kept his shit to himself. He shook off the downer moment. “Let’s shoot some pool.”

“Good idea,” said Lee. “And, J.J., I get you not wanting to get sucked into this business again. I’d have liked you to be the one who takes over The Drunken Sailor, but no worries. The right owner will show up.”

Maybe the right owner had showed up, J.J. thought as they drank beer and waited their turn at one of the pool tables. The place was packed. Lots of out of towners, but Lee said he had a ton of regulars who came in during the week as well. Line dancing lessons were offered on Sunday afternoons followed by line dancing. A lot of the old guys came in mid-week to play darts and Lee had recently started a Ladies night, with half-off on drinks on Tuesdays and pool lessons taught by some of the better players, including a guy named Seth Waters, who had been regular before he got married. According to Lee, he still came in to play pool on Sundays while his wife and her girlfriends line danced.

“You’ve done a great job of making this the place to be,” J.J. said as they moved to take their turn at a table that had opened up.

“I like to think so,” said Lee. “Thank God I got lots of good free advice from a pro when I first started.

“What are friends for?” J. J. responded. He selected a cue stick and chalked it up.

“Go ahead and break,” Lee said. 

J.J. took aim at the cue ball, sending it clacking into the others. He sunk one of the striped ones and then proceeded to clean the table.

“Save some for me,” Lee protested.

“Oh, yeah, I can’t let you lose. It would hurt your delicate feelings,” J.J. taunted.

“And then I’d hurt your delicate nose,” Lee shot back.

J.J. did miss the next ball. He stood back and let Lee take his turn.

It was the end of the game for him because he caught sight of a woman with long, red hair, a face that would launch a thousand ships, and legs that wouldn’t quit walking into the place. She wore a short black leather jacket, hanging open to reveal a lowcut green top cover a very nice rack. Those fine legs were encased in tight jeans. She wore black boots that made him think of pirates and was carrying a guitar case. Holy Moly! Was that a member of the band Lee had told him about?

Lee caught him staring. “That’s Bonnie Brinks, one of The Mermaids.”

“I wouldn’t mind hooking her on my line.”

“Fat chance. She’s a smiling ice maiden. Been single for years.”

“Maybe she’s tired of being single,” J.J. mused.

“Don’t hold your breath. But hey, she sure dresses up the place.”

“That was probably about all she did. Lee had a tin ear. He’d probably hired the woman for her looks.

Behind her came a younger woman, tall like Bonnie but with darker coloring. Also a looker. And next to her walked a woman who’d never gotten the memo that she was a senior citizen, also wearing tight jeans and heels high enough to trip Tina Turner. She sported spiky white hair and the tips of the spikes were colored green. The mother. His mother sure didn’t look like that. This woman probably had every old geezer in the place ready to take her out. With all three women being so striking maybe nobody cared what they sounded like.

“Had enough pool?” asked Lee.

“I think I’ll go over to the bar and get another drink,” J.J. said.

He snagged the last seat at the bar, one near the end next to a scruffy old dude in faded jeans and a peacoat, ordered another beer, and watched as the women tuned up. They couldn’t sound as good as they looked.

“The band’s good,” the old guy said. “They sing good, too,” he said and chortled over his crack.

“You know them?” J.J. asked.

“Of course. Everybody knows everybody here,” the old guy informed him.

“Looks like this is a popular place,” J.J. observed.

“Best burgers in town. Plus they have a senior menu.”

Lee came up behind J.J., hovering like a salesman in a used car lot. “Hey there, Pete. I see you’ve met my pal J.J. This is Pete,” Lee said to J.J. “He’s one of our regulars. He won our last darts tournament.”

“Beat out all the young pups,” Pete bragged. “You play darts?” he asked J.J.

“Don’t take the bait,” said Lee. “He’ll just sucker you into a friendly wager and take your shirt.”

“Aw, there you go, spoilin’ my fun,” Pete complained.

A full house and steady patrons. It would be kind of cool to own this pub. A lot of work and time consuming, but it wasn’t like he had much going on in his life anyway other than some day trading, hitting the gym and reading. In the last year he’d bought enough books to stock a small library. He needed something more to do. Lately, he felt like he was drifting with no purpose, no adventure on the horizon. What kind of adventures could he have here in Moonlight Harbor?

At nine on the dot the hot redhead stepped up to the mike and said, “Hey everyone, let’s get this party started.” She looked back at the granny on the drums, who began to bang her drumsticks together, counting off the beat, then the young girl hit the bass and the redhead began to bend those guitar strings all to hell. People rushed to the dance floor as she started to sing. “Get off your chair and get out here and shake your booty. You gotta start this party, so get out there and do your duty.”

J.J.’s heart went into overdrive. This place was a goldmine and Bonnie Brinks was the gold. What a voice! The woman was a super star. He wondered what she was doing buried in the sand of a small beach town.

“So whaddya think? The place is a good investment, right?”

“I’d say so,” said J.J. “Looks like the band is bringing in a lot of customers.”

“We had a lot of customers even before the band,” Lee said. “People want to eat at a casual place with lots of atmosphere when they’re at the beach.”

“You definitely got the atmosphere,” J.J. said. The goofy carved pirate statues were an obvious hit. He’d seen several people taking pictures with them. The pool tables had been in constant use since they’d walked in and the beer was flowing. Lee did have a going concern. The band and dance floor were a bonus. And what a bonus it was.

The women finally went on break, the older one stopping at a table to say hello to some people. The younger one went to plop down next to a super -sized young buck at a table near the band stand where a glass of pop was already waiting. A boyfriend, of course. The guitar queen headed for the bar, stopping for a quick word here and there, deflecting a fat lounge lizard, nodding and smiling at something another patron said.

She came up to the end of the bar next to J. J. and Lee. “Great job as always, Bonnie,” Lee said.

“Thanks,” she said. Then to the bartender, “Got my Diet Coke, Madison?”

“On its way,” the woman said and got busy getting her drink.

“You’ve got a great band,” J. J. said to Bonnie.

“Thanks, we try,” she said. Her smile was stop sign. Not Interested so don’t even try.

What did he look like? Some middle-aged, desperate horn toad? He was just being friendly. There was no need to give him the ice treatment. 

He decided to turn the charm up a notch. “I always wanted to meet a mermaid.”

“Now you have,” she told him, still with the stop sign smile. The bartender set down her glass and Bonnie thanked her, the ice melting from her smile. But it was back again for J.J. “Try the garlic fries here,” she said to him. “They’re great.” Then she left before he could get in another word.

Mermaids were not so easy to catch. 

“Don’t put her on the welcoming committee,” J.J. muttered.

“Told ya,” said Lee.

Slick and charming and no ring on his finger, which, considering his age which she figured to be somewhere around hers, probably had to mean he’d ditched a wife somewhere along the way, Bonnie decided as she walked to the band table. With those blue eyes and that red hair and matching, neatly trimmed beard, he looked like some kind of troubadour from the Elizabethan era. Add broad shoulders and a well sculpted chest and he was a regular pheromone factory. 

And that stupid line about catching a mermaid. Oh, yes, he was a charmer.

Who did that remind her of? Rance Jackson, of course. 

Let’s get to know him, urged her sex-starved hormones.

Not happening, she informed them. This was the kind of man who broke hearts – trouble in Levis. There would be no getting to know him.

Put a Mr. Yuck sticker on him and stay far away.

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About the Author

USA Today and Publishers Weekly best-selling author Sheila Roberts has written over fifty books under various names, ranging from romance to self-improvement. Over three million books have been sold to date. Her humor and heart have won her a legion of fans and her novels have been turned into movies for both the Lifetime and Hallmark channels. When she’s not out dancing with her husband or hanging out with her girlfriends, she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women’s hearts: family, friends and chocolate.

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