#excerpt — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #excerpt, aggregated by home.social.
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Read an #excerpt from Something Shady at Sunshine Haven & snag an Accidental Detective #mystery free!
“If you like Stephanie Plum, you’ll love sleuthing with Kate and the Coffee Shop Irregulars!”
https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2026/08/snag-first-accidental-detective-novel.html
#CozyMystery #FreeBook #SuperSeries #books -
#WordWeavers 2026.08.13 — What's the most unexpected source of inspiration you've ever had?
For me, likely all the writing hashtag games (and response thereto). Social media, even Facebook which I rage force quit 3-4 years back, was never my thing, so what I found when a friend convinced me to try Mastodon was surprising. Not only do hashtag games keep me writing daily through dry as well as wet spells, one is responsible for me writing at all the novella Mars Needed Women, still in beta editing. Many are the times of the week that I discover something about characters or the world they live in by answering prompts, and recently I've been writing bits of chapters or tiny side stories.
Search from:sfwrtr #excerpt)
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
#PennedPossibilities 1094: Saturday Word Edition: Share something from your WIP pertaining to the word “sorrow.” (For @thatwriterellie.)
Maybe if I write how the chapter will end, I'll finally write the rest of the stalled chapter! 🤞Here goes! The POV, Bolt, is a day angel, a human with wings. Warning: 1st draft. #excerpt
We watched the daemon float Molt's last box of books into the baggage compartment of the train in silence, me helping prop Molt up as he was still groggy from having his broken arm mended.
Companionable? Was silence that? Unsaid words felt awkward.
I flipped the porter a silver as my departing neighbor had been so desperate to leave town he hadn't thought of the coin necessary for fare let alone crate space. Another sign he wasn't thinking. He'd been assaulted. Arm broken. Covered in purpling bruises. I imagined not safe repeating over and over in his head.
He reached and wiped a tear from my cheek. Green eyes met mine as he said, "Not your fault," refuting my worry of having earned his hate and resentment.
He was a good man making a mistake. "You're giving up a scholarship—"
"And a friend." He coughed, looked away, maybe afraid of also losing his resolve. "Friends at school, and a neighbor who taught me to apply theory to real life. But…"
"…you must." The toot of train whistle stopped me from begging again, as did the hiss of steam.
He said firmly, "I must… Bolt?"
I was gazing reflexively at a passenger car not him, unaccustomed to my emotion flooding out toward a man. When I looked, he immediately held my chin with his good hand and swiftly kissed me, deeply, like that first time when we'd both given into the fever we felt.
Another toot. A bell, clang-clang-clang.
He said, "You've got to quit that job or run away from whatever crazy you've got yourself messed up with… before it kills you."
My mouth, lips still moist, dropped open as he rushed to the boarding steps where a conductor who I'd earlier discreetly given coin reached and helped him climb, shoes clanking on steel once, twice, thrice.
I didn't see him through the windows. I blinked too much, and it was blurry so not happening, before I stumbled turning away, thumping a few times before realizing I could glide away. I fled the length of the wood platform, not looking back, soon out of sight, breathing hard.
I had been blackmailed to work for the mob. I'd kept that secret. Details, at least.
Today hadn't gone as I'd hoped. Soon silver-sided aerodynamic cars accelerated and whizzed by. Arrow trains lived up to their name. Where I squatted atop the roof of the station, the trailing red lights were lost half a league away in the time I could have held my breath, were I not sobbing.
When I finally found the strength to fly, I flew swiftly home, exhausted already lightheaded from lack of sleep. Nearly a day had passed since I'd returned home anticipating his happy smiles. Now, when I entered my aerie, the first thing I saw was shiny magical gift I'd bought, for him, for us to share, wrapped in green satin, scented with thyme oil, tied with red ribbon, laying on the floor under the desk where I'd tossed it hearing him injured.
I collapsed to my knees. A word popped into my mind from a dodecade ago. I might have previously applied it to myself. Erroneously. All the mistakes I'd made to get myself to Molt being assaulted. Me living blackmailed. That feeling of being inflicted. But. I realized. Then. I could not feel this word, this emotion, unless I could apply it also, at the same time, to another: That would be Molt and myself. I pounded a fist on my sternum.
Is this sorrow?
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2026.08.05 — Share a small selection of something you wrote recently that you're proud of.
Wanna #excerpt? How's 'bout this? The antagonist, Pigeon the Pilferer, and the narrator, Bolt, are day angels. They have wings. Teri (short for Night Terror) is the mob's new enforcer.
I looked up, reflexively flaring my wings as she'd led us into a narrow alley, feeling claustrophobic, tapping feathers to the brick on either side, unable to fully extend. I let the two continue ahead. After two steps, the woman faced him.
Hands on her hips, Teri insisted, "You should apologize."
"What?"
"Apologize."
"Why?"
"Do you think Boss Idiot doesn't know? That he won't use it against you? Do it for team cohesion purposes, if for no other reason."
"Or you're going to tattle?" He sneered.
"Interesting diction there, tattle. Oh! Are you attempting to belittle me? No. That's right, you're a featherbrain. You lack the vocabulary to state that I might discuss your counterproductive behavior with your employer—"
He swung on her.
Her shoe splashed in the water running down the center of the alley as she sidestepped. Slightly. Enough. Her cloak rustled as knuckles whizzed by her shoulder. He swung twice more, then grabbed fruitlessly for hanging fabric.
The heel of her hand hit him square on his sternum. It stopped there, barely impacting. Enough that he coughed. Surprised for a heartbeat, he grabbed for her arm, but she plowed forward switching hands. He jerked his hand back. She leaned in, her face looming into his since she was that tall and he somewhat short for a man. He reflexively backpedaled. When he grabbed for her cloak, she jumped back.
"You're flapping me!" he shouted, charging, his wings flaring out.
They thwacked the alley walls like striking sticks.
That hurt.
His attack fell short as she backpedaled, not even looking back because she'd mentally mapped the alley. When he stopped, bewildered that his results didn't match what he'd thought was going to happen, she threw herself at him, caught his arm-shoulder and pulled him to her.
She kissed him…
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#BoostingIsSharing
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
#PennedPossibilities 1087 — Friday Edition: In honor of a friend (@thatwriterellie), we’re using a word once per week. Write or share something from your WIP pertaining to: “struggle.”
In this newly revised #excerpt from Reluctant Moon, Streak, the MMC, has witnessed the leader of the world, Rainy Days, do the Solomon thing, having made a contentious judgement to place a child in an unexpected person's care, doing what others might think beneath her notice but she felt she must, and in the end it was one too many stressful decisions in this powerful woman's life. He's but a teenager, a potential university student, someone she was showing around. But he's male. He acts instinctively (for his society, anyway). Thorn Rose is the FMC and Streak's, the POV's, lover.
Were she Thorn Rose wound-up worrying, what would I do? I dropped my hands and before Rainy Days could take it as a signal to stand, I looped my arms under hers and crossed them over her upper chest, pulling her into a reverse hug, pressing myself against her back and fluffy furled wings, positioning my chin on her shoulder. This time I took a deep breath. She was substantial, a giant true enough, but womanly. Human.
She took a deep breath. Shuddered. Whispered: "You and Thorn remind me of Raven Caw and I back then. Centuries ago." Breathless. "What next? What should we do... next?"
I struggled for a moment, feeling in my arms for all appearances a young woman barely twenty-five, only a few years older than myself. I tried to push from my head the incomprehensible truth that she was actually ancient, a chimera of daemon, day angel, and nephil who ruled the entire world. A crown of ibex horns touched the top of my head behind my ear held against hers, feathers fluttered nervously beneath my arms, and fur above black hooves rubbed my shin as she squatted in my grasp—attributes that fought any semblance of normalcy, fought to negate that the skin I felt as I embraced her was any more than that of any other woman, as human as any other's, merely that of a woman in desperate need of centering. Much I could do if only I held perspective and tamped down on the overwhelm bubbling up.
And. Breathing slowly. With her… breathing slowly. I did. Hugging her still.
She reiterated, "Tell me."
The two words held no extra meaning. Not anger. Not sarcasm. Not a command. Men's Studies let me recognize surrender. She wanted me to transform her reality—from powerful to vulnerable—though we both understood well that I could not actually perform miracles.
"You consent?" I asked, asking The Question: The only thaumaturgy of which I was capable.
"Thorn Rose trusts you to carry her through the sky without dropping her, so... I shall, also."
Well. Reality did change. Mine. An unexpected sense of power grew thumping loudly in my chest: a fraction of her sovereignty abdicated temporarily to me, for my use as I chose, which she trusted me to borrow.
For how long? To what extent?
I had to wait for these questions to answer themselves because I knew one thing: I was just a man and we both knew what a man's purpose was.
I drew Her to stand and She did. Her whole body seemed relaxed. She had a tentative smile. What could I do? that smile asked. Even if I did nothing more, I knew her perspective had...
Shifted.
For instants maybe only heartbeats, she had not been, was not, in control; for her it screamed revelation, a relief, burdens flung off, leaden chains sundered…
Rainy Days is the main series antagonist, of course. What you think is about to happen will. Rather publicly, in fact.
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author #mystery #thriller #romance #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2026.07.21 — Do your works contain erotic elements? How far do you go?
The dictionaries I surveyed are pretty explicit and in agreement about this word. Below find the definition from the The Oxford Learner's Dictionary. I feel it is the most encompassing one and, I think, the most consistent with this question:
Erotic adj: showing or involving sexual desire and pleasure; intended to make somebody feel sexual desire
In this case clause A can exist exclusive of clause B. So, my first answer is yes, but the current WIP isn't an erotic work.
As for my second answer: My MC was a track and field star in high school with a tuned body to show for it, with a great personality, able to attract any partner and did, and kept them, and boasted dozens. Still a hick, often sexist, sometimes prejudiced. Ends up a criminal. The story takes place when the MC is turning 30.
She's a woman. I write gender fiction.
Her perceptions of what is right in her society are what's important. What people consider right contrasts starkly with what we do, especially gender roles. Her experiences must ring true. The story isn't about sex. It certainly doesn't use common bodice-ripper or porn vernacular (it takes place on a different world) but the narrator doesn't fade to black. Why would she want to? She's proud. In a sense, she's boasting since the story has the flavor of the 1st person narrator conversing with the reader. It's also confessional. Yet, the narrator needs to convince the reader what she reports did happened—and sometimes, as a day angel with flying scenes, that what she reported was physically possible. Details? Right? There's her why, her joy, her worries, her confusion as to why she acts, and her justifications from inside her head amidst all the turmoil in her life.
If the reader gathers what physically happened between the characters, good. Not the purpose. It's plot advancement. If, further, the reader enjoys what they figure out happened, fine. Everyone is acting in the confines of their gender roles, arguably acting out, or sometimes exceeding self-imposed limits and finding meaning in and tolerance for the unfamiliar, which is thought provoking. Which is my intent.
How this works in practice (not-explicit): #excerpt
Bad enough that the Thousand Eyes associated me with Shugh. Me riding him, too? I wasn't sure I wanted not to. My body had its opinion, my brain another. Another lost memory surfaced of me at an eatery near school, aftergaming with my track team rowdy behind me, me preening in front of a skeptical cook at a smokey grill: "I can't have too many men; women need to compete better," but now I was thirty. I'd feel really bad if I hurt Shugh…
Her attitude about sex here is matter-of-fact and neutral. From our point of view? Some readers might find how she thinks about her passions erotic.
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#BoostingIsSharing
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An #excerpt from Something Prowling in Paradise Park: A Kate Tessler Amateur Sleuth Mystery!
These quirky, cozy mysteries with a women sleuth are perfect for fans of suspenseful whodunit murder mysteries with high stakes and humor.
https://lttr.ai/Arxwr
#ReadzTule #mystery #books -
#BookTour: Guilty by Association, by TG Wolff @partnersincr1me #GuiltybyAssociation #TGWolff #legal #mystery #whodunnit #TulePublishing #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
GUILTY BY ASSOCIATION by TG Wolff July 13 - August 7, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: The Rizk Brothers Legal Mystery Series Family values are great for campaigns. Family baggage isn't. His twin is the last person Miami Detective Seth Rizk expects to defend him at an internal affairs hearing that could end his…
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How To Fix WordPress Blog Posts Excerpt Field Missing? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2nVmngoyPk 🔌🌐💡 #Fix #WordPress #Blog #Posts #Excerpt
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#BookTour: Kill to Keep, by Elena Taylor @partnersincr1me #KilltoKeep #ElenaTaylor #police #procedural #rural #crime #fiction #SevernHouse #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
KILL TO KEEP by Elena Taylor July 6 - August 14, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: A Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery A female sheriff races against time to solve a murder at a carnival that puts her whole town at risk. Thrilling, romantic, and full of suspense! Sheriff Bet Rivers' inspection of the carnival…
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Excerpt: Box Garden Beetle – The Comics Journal https://www.allforgardening.com/1854851/excerpt-box-garden-beetle-the-comics-journal/ #BoxGardenBeetle #excerpt #garden #GlacierBayBooks #KondohAkino
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Excerpt from "Retreat" - Book 4, Warlord Series.
“Assume.” It was a voice I recognised. “It makes an ASS of U and ME.” Uncle Franky’s voice for sure, and that meant only one thing. I was doing the wrong thing. But what was I supposed to do? I had seriously screwed up, a ship’s crew had been lost, and an autonomous killing machine was on the loose. “The question is not ‘what have I lost’ it should be ‘how can I make best use of what I have?’. D’you understand?”
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#BookTour: The Midas Touch, by Gary Grossman, Oren Aviv, and Charles Segars @partnersincr1me #TheMidasTouch #GaryGrossman #OrenAviv #CharlesSegars #suspense #mystery #historical #fiction #globehopping #intrigue #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
THE MIDAS TOUCH by Gary Grossman, Oren Aviv, & Charles Segars June 29 - July 24, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: National Treasure meets Jack Ryan in THE MIDAS TOUCH July 19, 1799. Napoleon’s armies advance into Egypt. In the steaming…
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#EroticMusings 2026.06.28 — Week 57 (June 28 - July 4) Craft: What do you try to achieve with the opening scene of an erotic work?
Well, I was going to add this #excerpt as part two of my week 55 reply, but this question also works to say a similar thing. Briefly, what was important for me to achieve in the opening of the current story, in this case the first chapter not necessarily the opening scene, was to foreshadow an attraction that could overcome prejudice and social obstacles. Whilst this novel isn't specifically erotic, there is plenty of racy athleticism! Bolt, the narrator, is a day angel, a human woman with wings; she can fly. The man in this passage is more like you or I.
A hand gently touched my arm when I relaxed, stalling me as I brought the camera to eye level. Men knew better than to touch any woman without being asked, without consent, even here in a progressive cosmopolitan capital city. I lowered the camera, facing him. His contrite desperate look, hands together still holding his broken camera. I stepped back, bringing him instantly into focal range.
Click!
Reflex portraiture. Of him. Upward, distorting his jaw and maybe only with his eyes and hair in focus, eyebrows lifted. Contrite, desperate. Radiating empathy and sympathy the way the sky radiated heat and bright yellow light.
Raise him to a seven [on my darling dozen scale!]
He might have been somewhat adorable, enough to ride, were he a day angel not a saint. When I imagined later taping his image to my wall, I knew I would stare and stare at that amazing expression. Still, being raised in a day angel forest town, I couldn't help but see [him] as a wing-amputee…
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2026.06.25 —Share a passage you’ve written containing onomatopoeia.
This is from the fourth rewrite of the first chapter of Bolt's story, somewhat revised. I think it's a keeper. She's a day angel and, of course, has wings. Not only am I establishing her flight bona fides, but also that she's a credibly talented street photographer. It's a hobby supported by her criminal day job, both of which are about to give her heaps of trouble in the novel. There's going to be some noise…
A distant Boom! sounded, like a far away thunder clap. It thumped my stomach, a light punch very much unlike what I'd endured with knuckles recently, but I concentrated like a cat creeping up on a sparrow; I tracked the man as he jerked where he perched, turning his head towards the sound, lighting the caramel brown of his finger-length goat horns so the closest glowed like candy in contrast to his three-quarters silhouette. I flicked out a wing, set my stance, steadied the camera, and twisted my primaries vertical—to shade the lens from the out-of-frame blaze of day shine funneled down the street from the dawn to refract through the splattering tinkling spray of the fountain—ensuring the lens flare didn't ruin seeing the subject, only added atmosphere.
Click. Eyes caught widening.
Ratchet in the next plate.
Click. A frown as bushy black eyebrows collided.
Ratchet.
Click—as he turned to look at me, noting my predatory attention.
My face heated instantly.
Heart racing, before the daemon could yell out, maybe to object to my candid shots, forcing me legally to eject my cartridge of exposed silvered plates, I reflexively rotated away, wings spread full as I sprinted toward the park trees, thrusting myself into the sky with a minimum of downstrokes, necessarily sacrificing my usual stealth and fomenting the roar of a sudden squall blown in from the sea. I sloppily and barely cleared the rustling canopy in my fright, tearing away leaves to swirl in the eddies left behind me.
I practiced to keep from being noticed, to be the wood smoke smelled too late, fire beyond control; it helped in my profession. Barring stealth, I tried for looking too dangerous to touch with my glued hair spiked up, leather, and studs in my cheeks; it helped in my profession. My wings helped me fly fast, very fast; it— Well, you know.
Good shots, though! I grinned widely as I sighed, finding myself gliding over the white cement streets filled with rushing traffic. I banked over an intersection. The tall city buildings (the Towers midcity) tilted with my horizon, nearly on their side, my feathers buzzing and hissing with the strain of maintaining my air speed. I'd curved reflexively toward where my ears had triangulated the boom.
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#BoostingIsSharing
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
#BookTour: Shadows of Frenchmen, by Michael Rigg @partnersincr1me #ShadowsofFrenchmen #MichaelRigg #medical #legal #coroner #thriller #LevelBestBooks #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
SHADOWS OF FRENCHMEN by Michael Rigg June 22 - July 31, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: A Jonathan Gray, M.D. Mystery On a frosty Sunday morning in February, Dr. Jonathan Gray, Coroner of Orleans Parish, faces a gruesome sight. A dead man splayed against the circular steel and cut-glass blocks of…
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#ScribesAndMakers 2026.06.17 §Describe an idyllic garden.
… since my wings were up and out anyway, I herded her and sat her out of the angled day shine, upon a stucco bench formed out of wall in a wide tree-planted alleyway, which widened into a terraced courtyard that spread upward like a grassy knoll to balconies, and snaked around between rounded and domed buildings, comprised of dozens of wooded and thus isolated spaces in various directions, many climbing the first stories in the manner of ivy. Little park-lets. No street visible in any direction. A secluded misty oasis in the capital city. We'd stopped near a grotto tunnel with brick walls; I felt a mist before I heard, then saw, the rearing horse fountain spitting and splashing beyond. The humidity smelled nice.
Well-to-do. Yes. No way as wealthy as the Residency neighborhood, but elegant. I tilted an ear toward distant chatter; nobody close-by; certainly well hidden by rustling leaves. Wanting privacy. Most people were wise not to venture out, even to a private park, during the often dangerous heat of the sleeping. I furled my wings, sitting beside Teri.
Idyllic. Yes. A good place to come with a perspective lover.
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#BoostingIsSharing
#gender #fiction #writer #author
photographer chef cooking
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
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How To Add Featured Image, Categories, Excerpt and Tags in WordPress Blog Posts? 📝 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8YRhDRQxmI 🎬🧑💻 #FeaturedImage #Categories #Excerpt #Tags #WordPress #Guide
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#BookTour: Hi Love, You Just Dropped Your Glove, by Paul Charles @partnersincr1me #HiLoveYouJustDroppedYourGlove #PaulCharles #police #procedural #crime #fiction #LevelBestBooks #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
HI LOVE, YOU JUST DROPPED YOUR GLOVE by Paul Charles June 1 - July 10, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: A McCusker Mystery Thomas Barry, Lefty Kelly, and Brendy McCusker were all teenage boys who were roaming the streets of Portrush, County Antrim, in Northern Ireland…
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Chickpea-Rosemary Sauce from Something Prowling in Paradise Park: The Accidental Detective Book 7: "One of her boyfriend's teen sons has become a good cook, and what better way to bribe someone to help you then with a great meal?"
https://lttr.ai/Armvl
#Excerpt #Recipe #mystery #books -
Chickpea-Rosemary Sauce: Unlike many #mystery heroines, Kate doesn't cook or craft, but some secondary characters do. Something Prowling in Paradise Park starts with Kate heading to a dinner meeting at the house of her boyfriend, the mayor.
https://lttr.ai/ArkWX
#Excerpt #Recipe #books -
Chickpea-Rosemary Sauce from Something Prowling in Paradise Park: Unlike many #mystery heroines, Kate doesn't cook or craft, but some secondary characters do. Something Prowling starts with Kate heading to a dinner meeting ...
▸ https://lttr.ai/AriDr
#Excerpt #Recipe #books -
#BookTour: Wildwood Exit, by Joel E. Turner @partnersincr1me #WildwoodExit #JoelETurner #amateursleuth #sleuth #noir #hardboiled #crime #JerseyShore #fiction #literary #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
WILDWOOD EXIT by Joel E. Turner May 25 - June 19, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: A deadly family vendetta at a Jersey Shore restaurant finds John McGinty (aka Ginty) tailing his boss's lying wife and junkie son into a dark world of embezzlement, drug dealing and murder. Ginty…
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My Author Spotlight is an #excerpt from the latest Kate Tessler Amateur Sleuth #Mystery!
“If you like Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series, you’ll love sleuthing with Kate and the Coffee Shop Irregulars!”
Read more 👉 https://lttr.ai/Ara6d
#ReadzTule #mystery #books -
#BookTour: Deadly Gold Rush, by Landis Wade @partnersincr1me #DeadlyGoldRush #LandisWade #mystery #legal #thriller #hystorical #LystraBooksandLiteraryServicesLLC #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
DEADLY GOLD RUSH by Landis Wade May 18 - June 26, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: THE INDIE RETIREMENT MYSTERY SERIES Murder, mines, and missing millions—retirement just got interesting. When a shady real estate developer is found murdered beneath Harriet Keaton’s family home—shot,…
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#BookTour: First Daughter, by Marlie Parker Wasserman @partnersincr1me #FirstDaughter #MarlieParkerWasserman #historical #crime #fiction #LevelBestBooks #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
FIRST DAUGHTER by Marlie Parker Wasserman May 4-29, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: In the summer of 1895, President Grover Cleveland and his pregnant wife, Frances, retreat to their secluded Cape Cod home, eager to avoid Washington’s heat and hassles. The very day that Frances gives birth,…
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“no friend, I’m talking about something worse than the Brunswick Basement Affair” he leveled his gaze, by her reaction, he could tell she was familiar.
The Brunswick basement had changed the way people thought about simulations. It had led The Human Rights Council to issue the first laws governing one-to-one physics simulations.
Even for people who scoffed at the idea of “torturing a virtual mind,” the servers of Brunswick made some laws seem necessary. #excerpt
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#BookTour: Daughter of Mine, by Angie Stanton @partnersincr1me #DaughterofMine #AngieStanton #fiction #crime #literary #womens #excerpt #giveaway #PICT
DAUGHTER OF MINE by Angie Stanton April 27 - May 22, 2026 Virtual Book Tour Synopsis: "One mother's nightmare. One mother's secret." In the maternity ward of Mercy Hospital, two women's lives collide in an act that will haunt them both for years to come. For Melissa Grout, a fifteen-minute shower becomes an eternal…
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"All this searching high and low, but eventually, you'll just have to stop and say, 'This is home.' Only then will you be able to rest."
"Where is home?"
"Here, with me. I could be your home."
"I can't stay here. I have to go."
"No, you don't."
"It won't stop, not until I've ended it."
"Then return to me once you have."