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Gender Harmony - GLIMPSES OF HEAVEN ON EARTH by John E. Wade II #Relationships #AmReading 

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre - Inspirational
Rating – G
More details about the author
Connect with John E. Wade II on Facebook 


LUCIFER & THE INDIGO KIDS by Lord Ra Krishna El @Lord_Ra_Krishna #AmReading #Poetry #NonFiction


Soon I will be free...
As free as the dolphin

That swims in the Sea...
As free as a feather

That blows in the wind...
Sitting on the beach

Sipping coffee once again
With long
dread loc's...
And new tattoo's...

Smoking with Bob Marley
As my words help heal the earth...
My music playing around the world

Performing in front of thousand's...
Sharing my art with the planet

And speaking in the language
of the dolphins... 


WITNESS TO MY HEART by Loni Flowers @LoniFlowers #Excerpt #Contemporary #Romance

Note : Excerpt contains strong language

“Don’t play games with me, Abi.”

“I don’t play those types of games, Max.”

Shit! Not the appropriate comeback in a situation like this.

“Wouldn’t let you… what?” 

Low profiles meant no social life and definitely no love life.

Genre – Contemporary Romance
Rating – R
Connect with Loni Flowers through Facebook & Twitter
at 11:30 AM Labels: Contemporary Romance, Loni Flowers, Witness to My Heart


@KirstenArcadio on a Different Version of Ourselves & Quantum Tectonics #BookClub #Thriller #AmReading

What if a quantum tectonic event split our reality?

So that different versions of ourselves appeared from an alternate universe, to show us what our lives could have been had we made different choices, or what we might become, should we change our behaviour right now?

As Werner Heisenberg said,

‘Atoms or elementary particles themselves are not real; they form a world of potentialities or possibilities rather than one of things or facts.’

What if our lives were made up of infinite possibilities, all of which were happening simultaneously, until the observer – you – decided to pin one down? One choice, one life.

In my latest novel, Split Symmetry, I explore all of these questions – and more – against the exciting backdrop of a mysterious Italian mountain range. Find out what happens when Dr Elena Lewis and a group of her friends become embroiled in the worst earthquake the region has known mixed up with a quantum event that changes their lives for ever.

How do they escape? Can Elena save her friends? Can she save herself? And when she crosses into a reality she cannot conceive of, what does she make of it?

Set in the near future, Split Symmetry [getBook.at/SplitSymmetry] is the story of what happens when a hike in the notorious Gran Sasso mountain range in central Italy descends into chaos on the same night that scientists decide to work on a clandestine experiment in a lab beneath the mountain. Dr Elena Lewis must work around the clock to find members of her group who have become lost on the mountain, but just as she is close to finding them, the region is rocked by one of the worst earthquakes central Italy has ever known. 
Kirsten Arcadio has written three novels, each with a different speculative theme. Her first novel, Borderliners, was published in February of this year with the second in the series, Split Symmetry, to be published in July. The third, WorldCult, is due out just before Christmas. She’s also a part-time poet, digital communications nerd and frazzled head of an Anglo-Italian family.

After working for over fifteen years in digital communications, she returned to her twin first loves, literature and philosophy, in 2011. She’s passionate about the big questions in life and how these can be explored using speculative fiction.

When she’s not writing she’s obsessing about Sci Fi or Nordic noir. She loves all things Italian, including her husband, and she once taught English in the Italian senate. Lost meets The Poseidon Adventure with a hint of Sliding Doors!

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords
Genre - Speculative thriller
Connect with Kirsten Arcadio through Facebook & Twitter 


Cheryl Rice Opens Up About Her Grief & Writing a Book @RiceonLife #Memoir #MustRead #NonFiction

What Inspired Me to Write"Where Have I Been All My Life"

One life changing event and three simultaneous inner urgings inspired me to write my book, Where Have I Been All My Life? A Journey Toward Love and Wholeness.

The life altering event was the swift, merciless death of my mother – who happened to also be my best friend – when she was an otherwise robust and healthy 68 years old and I was 45. I was completely unprepared for life without her. Her death broke me open in unprecedented, yet ultimately life-affirming, ways.

While I was mired in grief, and playing all sorts of grief games in an effort to stay connected with her, I also felt compelled to live more boldly, authentically and vibrantly than I ever had before. Even though I had always prided myself on living with intention and enjoyed setting and reaching challenging goals, there were a few dreams, like writing a book, that I had been too scared and overwhelmed to tackle. But in the wake of my mom’s death there was no time for just thinking about “tomorrow” or relegating my long buried dream to “someday.” My someday was now.

The second thing that inspired me to write my book was a deep, intrinsic desire to produce something that would outlive me. While I had two wonderful stepchildren and a puppy I treated as my baby, I hadn’t yet truly offered the world something tangible that would endure. And now I had a fierce longing to give creative birth to something that would speak for me when I was gone – something that would be part of my legacy.

The third thread of inspiration for my book came from a yearning to find and validate my own voice. Ironically, as a professional leadership and life coach I was comfortable and competent helping others, especially women, claim and cultivate their own voice yet I had been remiss in doing the same for myself. Coming from a family of writers (but never identifying as one myself), I always knew that writing was a wonderful way of clarifying and cleansing one’s thoughts, but beyond penning some bad adolescent poetry and keeping journals episodically throughout my life, I never took myself or my writing seriously. That changed once my mother died, my heart broke, and my time and need for self-inquiry and validation burst forth.

Lastly, I had a strong desire to reach out and connect with other people, women in particular, who were struggling with similar issues. Issues like self-acceptance, using longing as a substitute for loving, and overcoming the loss of a loved one. Reading books, especially stories of personal resilience written by women, had always been a comfort and balm to me. Through the brave and honest stories of other women I found strength, companionship and validation. My loneliness or isolation would lift, even for a bit, and my fortitude and hopefulness would be reignited. Also, since I adore championing women, writing a book felt like a natural and necessary vehicle to connect with them on both a deeper and broader level and to inspire those who are on a similar journey toward love and self-acceptance. 

Genre – Memoir
Connect with Cheryl Rice through Facebook & Twitter
Website www.yourvoiceyourvision.com Labels: A Journey Toward Love and Wholeness, Cheryl Rice, Memoir, Where Have I Been All My Life


Mike Hartner on His Crammed Room of Characters @MHartnerAuthor #HistFic #Romance #GoodReads

Inside the Mind of An Author

In the Darkness brought on by a closed room and narrow stairs, I slowly ascend to the top and push the attic floorboard to the side. This stairwell, conveniently hidden in a second floor wall, has been very dusty and full of cobwebs. I’m really not sure what to expect when I go into the attic. I have, however, heard strange noises.

Climbing up into the attic, into the mind of this author, I look around. The walls are cluttered with post it notes, and most of them had small symbols and some writing. There were papers that had fallen to the floor, and the whole area looked like an old bomb shelter.

I’m immediately dodging the many different children who are running around. The voices that each one uses to taunt the others are all different.

I stop one of them. His name is James.

“Are there any others around?”

“Oh, there are plenty.”

“Where are they?”

“Sitting in a corner of the filing room in the back. They’re waiting for their opportunity to come join the fun.”

“What are they waiting for?”

“Why, everyone knows that they’re waiting to be heard. Not all of us characters can be heard at the same time. Sometimes, he listens to three or four of us for a short time, and sometimes he listens to one of us for a long time. But, we’re all here. Waiting for our chance to be heard.”

“So why are you three out here running around?”

“We’ve already been heard. He’s concentrating on us right now, and it’s our chance to play and rest while he figures out what he wants us to do next.”

“How many are in the back room?”

“The last I checked, the room was crammed, and the waiting list was endless. Lots of voices like us want to be heard. We want to tell our stories.”

James escaped from my vision and went back to running around.

When I saw them return, I also saw them carrying long sticks, using them as play swords. I beat a hasty retreat from the mind of this author. 

Genre - Historical Fiction, Romance
Connect with Mike Hartner on Facebook & Twitter 


K S Ferguson on What Scares Her, Happiness and Why She Writes #AmReading #Fantasy #Fiction

Tell us a bit about your family.

Grand-dad was a horse thief. Grandpa on the other side was a bigamist. Writing novels that involve crime and madness is in my blood.

How do you work through self-doubts and fear?

"La-la-la-la-la." Did you ask something?

What scares you the most?

Heights. I'm the pits when it comes to putting on a new roof or standing on the top of small, swaying buildings like the Space Needle.

What makes you happiest?

Good music, a stunning sunset, the ripe wheat waving in the autumn wind, the hummingbirds outside my window on a summer morning. I'm easy.

What’s your greatest character strength?

I shout and stand up for the underdog no matter the odds or the consequences.

What’s your weakest character trait?

I shout and stand up for the underdog no matter the odds or the consequences, but sometimes confrontation isn't the answer.

Why do you write?

When I write, I get to go to amazing places and meet interesting people doing important things. By writing, I get to share that experience with others.

Have you always enjoyed writing?

No. I started writing in fourth grade, but I couldn't spell half the words I wanted to use. Very frustrating.

What motivates you to write?

There's no drug that can compare to the feeling of getting the right words on the page in the right order to convey what you meant to say, what you want the reader to feel.

What writing are you most proud of?

I currently have three separate series on the go. My characters would never forgive me if you made me choose just one. And pride goeth before the fall, so I think maybe I should skate around this question. 

Genre – Contemporary, Urban fantasy
Website http://www.ksferguson.net 

DARK CHEMISTRY #Excerpt by Kirsten Mortensen @KirstenWriter #AmReading #Romance #Suspense

This excerpt, from chapter 4 of Dark Chemistry, introduces Donavon Todde, the man who destined to fall in love with the novel’s protagonist, Haley Dubose. He actually encounters her in this scene, although he doesn’t know who she is—the woman who’s about to assume control over the company where he works; the woman who is now his boss. Instead, as you’ll see, Donavon is wrapped up in a personal struggle that consumes him with emotional pain and humiliation. When we meet him, here, he’s flying home from a fruitless trip to Las Vegas . . .

Donavon set his iPhone on the bar.

What kind of a loser—

Damn it, damn bartender walked by again without looking over. What was that, the third time? Because bartenders in airport bars don’t make eye contact. Of course they don’t. They don’t believe they’ll ever see you again. For them it’s just a shift, just get through the shift, they’ll never see anyone in here again, if they get good tips they get good tips, if they don’t, so what? It’s a job, hourly, benefits. It’s not about relationships, like in a real bar ...

Donavon waited, watching, for the guy to come back over to his end of the bar. Good, he’d turned, he was heading this way ...

What kind of a loser does it take to—

“Another Sam Adams, when you get a minute.”

The bartender nodded at Donavon, but without smiling. It was a “yeah, I heard you” nod.

Donavon checked his phone again.

No messages.

“Is this seat taken?”

“No.” Donavon smiled at the woman who had spoken to him, sizing her up. Shoulder-length hair, no discernable gray, but a little crinkling around her eyes as she smiled back at him. Forties, he’d say. Mid-forties.

The bartender returned with his beer. “Menu?” he said into the air between them, and the woman said yes and asked him what sort of white wine he had, and ordered a Pinot Grigio.

“Lucky you got him,” said Donavon. “He’s a busy guy.”

“Eh, he can take all the time he likes—my flight’s been delayed until at least 7:30, apparently.”

“Yeah? Where you headed?”

“Rochester, New York. You?”

Of course. They were in Concourse G, the spot where the little planes land and take off, the planes headed to the little airports.

Too bad she wasn’t flying to Syracuse. He could use a distraction ...

The woman was checking her phone now, sending a text message, but then when she got her wine she put her phone away and turned slightly toward him. Good—she was a friendly one. “Syracuse, eh?” she said. “So what do you do?”


“Oh yeah? What company?” Smiling at him.

“RMB.” He felt himself relax as he spoke. “We’re a small chemical manufacturing plant nobody’s ever heard of, that makes stuff that other companies—companies you have heard of—put into their products.”

“What kind of products?”

“Cosmetics mostly—shampoo, lip balm, that sort of thing.”

“So is RMB based here in Chicago?” She sipped her wine, and he noticed her left hand.

No wedding ring.

Maybe he should date someone older. Maybe an older woman would be easier, less drama ...

“Nope,” he said. “It’s south of Syracuse. But as you know, if you fly to Rochester a lot, there aren’t any direct flights. I spend half my life in O’Hare. Is Rochester home for you?”

“Yes. So where are you coming from, this trip?”

“Vegas,” he said without thinking, and then wished he’d lied.

“That’s a fun town. So did you win, or lose?”

“Broke even, more or less,” he said. “Or anyway,” he struck a jovial note, “that’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.”

She smiled again, then flagged the bartender and ordered a chopped salad with chicken, and Donavon asked for his check, then watched out of the corner of his eye as the woman fumbled through her purse, took out a little bottle of Purell, opened it, and rubbed it into her hands.

“How about you?” Donavon asked as she recapped the bottle and dropped it back into her purse. “What do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

“No kidding. That’s interesting. What do you write? Books? Or ...”

“A little bit of everything. Stories, novels. But I pay the bills with corporate contract work. Marketing brochures, that kind of thing.”

A man’s voice came on over the terminal intercom and the woman paused, listening.

“Syracuse,” she said. “Is that you?”

Donavon nodded and pushed his stool back. “Yeah.”

“Well, have a nice flight.”

“I’m Don, by the way,” he said and held out his hand.

“Christine,” she said.

Her hand felt small and clean from the Purell.

He slung his duffel bag strap over his shoulder. “Good luck on your flight.”


Old enough to be his mother, almost. But maybe that’s what he needed—someone older, someone who had dealt with all her baggage, who would be grateful for the attentions of a young stud. And she was well-preserved. Trim, probably worked out. Pilates, probably, or spinning ...

So that’s it, Donnyboy?

That’s how you’re going to cope? By hitting on anything that moves?

He shook his head, trying to shake off the thought.

You get dumped, so you hate yourself, and then you cope by becoming a person you’ll hate even more?

He reached his gate and stepped into the plume of people waiting to board.

He pulled his boarding pass out of his back pocket.

There was a blond just off to the side, a little ahead of him. Her back to him. She was wearing those tight blue jean jeggings that show off every curve, black leather boots up over her calves—he let his eyes move up and down, lingering.

Yeah, now that—that was a morsel. Had to be at least an 8 or 9 ...

He shifted forward to get a glimpse of her face, her profile. Fine, like a porcelain doll. Easily a 9. Stupid, no doubt, but that was all the better. Yeah, this was exactly what the doctor had ordered. He should move in, now ... it would be easy. Let her know he had a job, strike the right balance between suave and aloof, flirtatious and superior ...

An older couple stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the blond, interrupting his thoughts, and his mind flashed back again to Vegas.

How many times had he made that trip?

And why?

What kind of a loser does it take to keep flying back out there? You know you’re not going to just run into her. And even if you did—then what? It’s done. She chose.

They’re probably fucking married by now.

What kind of loser does it take to keep chasing after a woman who is long fucking gone?

Donavon handed his boarding pass to the agent and waited as he scanned it. No beep. The agent scanned it again, and again, and finally the scanner beeped and Donavon took the ticket back and started up the jetway.

Goddamn it, they’d better have beverage service on this flight. A woman's worst nightmare

But now her father is dead.

Donavon has demons of his own.

A web of evil.

And he must control her. Any way he can.

Romantic suspense for your Kindle 


Madi Brown on Having a Writing Schedule & Social Media @Madithe1brown #AmWriting #WomensFic Madi Brown is an ambitious relationship blogger (Madibrown.com) by night, and a pencil-skirted, poplin-shirted, admin assistant by day. And though this author finds her main character to be quite relatable, she knows that having it all is a stretch. Duh. Success is self-defined. This is her debut work of contemporary women's fiction.

If you could have a dinner party and invite anyone dead or alive, who would you ask? I’d ask my Grandmother Emily, who is now deceased to attend. My novel is dedicated to her love of reading, but I only know this because of what my mother shared with me. I’d love to know what types of books she did read. It very well could have been pornographic.

Do you have any tips on how writers can relax? Well, there is this one app; I downloaded it for free on my Ipad. It’s called Jumpstart Energize Me. It helps me to breathe. I totally decompress.

Do you have an organized process or tips for writing well? Get rid of distractions---television, music, your ringing cell phone.

Do you have a writing schedule? Not really,Writing on a schedule feels so forced to me. I’m still trying to pin myself down to schedule my blog posts on Madibrown.com.

Sometimes it’s so hard to keep at it – What keeps you going? Knowing how much work I’ve put into it so far. It would be crazy for me to walk away and leave my book project unfinished at this point. Giving up without trying my best just isn’t a part of my genetic makeup. Madi Brown doesn’t want to be a Loser-girl.

What do you hope people will take away from your writing? How will your words make them feel? The take away will hopefully be that they’ve been entertained, followed by a need to read more of what I've written.

What’s your favorite meal? That would be shrimp and grits. It’s life-changing.

What color represents your personality the most? Orange. It has to be just the right shade though, not too bright. It makes me feel happy---no make that euphoric.

What movie do you love to watch? Casino. Sharon Stone’s wardrobe was so fab, and the film contained all of the other components that I like in a story, romance, action, and intrigue.

How do you feel about social media websites such as Facebook and Twitter? Are they a good thing? Yep. Facebook and Twitter allow me to expand my reach of potential readers, while I’m in my apartment scantily clad. Labels: Contemporary Women's Fiction, Madi Brown, The Truth About Emily


WHAT FREEDOM SMELLS LIKE: A #Memoir by Amy Lewis @AmyLewisAuthor #AmReading #Women

Every single item that you buy in life, that outlives you, someone, some person, has to deal with. Has to pack, has to decide what to do with: to sell, to donate, to throw away? If you sell it you have to decide how much to sell it for, maybe even research what similar items go for; you have to advertise, you have to exchange money, maybe even make change. If you donate you have to pack up, decide what charity or friend to give it to, usually you have to bring it to them or arrange to be home when they come by. You have to make sure it works because you don’t want to donate something that is broken. If you throw it away you have to lug it, schlep it to a waste bin and if it’s a lot of things to a dumpsite. You don’t think about this when you have money in your pocket and want things.

Every item in our Vegas house had a memory connected to it. Now I had to decide what to do with them all. I rented a huge storage space close to my parent’s house. It was almost as big as our first tiny slum apartment. All of our stuff had been deposited there.

The week after he died, I had gone into our walk-in closet in Vegas and sniffed every item of his clothing, removing those pieces that still had his scent and packaging them into gallon size vacuum packed Ziploc bags. I imagined this was a new use for Ziploc bags they probably never advertised: preserving the scent of the dead. I would have taken his clothes in the dirty laundry basket, but my father had washed them. I cried when I found him in the laundry room trying to be helpful. I put the zip locked bags of clothes under my bed in my parent’s guest bedroom. 

Connect with Amy Lewis through Twitter
Website www.WhatFreedomSmellsLike.com Labels: Amy Lewis, Marriage, Memoir, Relationships, What Freedom Smells Like


Kimberly Shursen Shares an #Excerpt from HUSH by @KimberlyShursen #AmReading #Thriller

Minneapolis Court House
September 3, 9:00 a.m.

Her blank gaze went to Ben, and he nodded.

“Yes,” she said faintly.

“Witness may take the stand.”

“My daddy’s lawyer,” she said shyly.


“Okay,” the child said, barely audible.

“Yes,” she said and looked down.

She wiggled anxiously in her seat. “I know.”

Ben nodded. “That’s right.”

A high-pitched shriek of resounded through the courtroom.

“I’ll try.” She gnawed on her lower lip.

“And why is that?” Ben asked.

“And your mom makes the pizza?” Ben probed.

The judge nodded at Rachel Werner’s attorney. “Counselor?”

“Love it.”

“You sure? Because there’s everything from pizza to—”

Ben grinned. “Ginger chicken.”

“When’s you’re birthday?”

“Maybe,” she said flirtatiously.

“You into signs and all that?”

Ann’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right?” Labels: Hush, Kimberly Shursen, Thriller