Anabel Divided by Amanda Romine Lynch | Review

Disclosure: Amanda Romine Lynch provided a copy of Anabel Divided for review purposes. All love of the book and demands to hear Matt's side of the story are entirely my own.

If you have not read Anabel Unraveled you must do so
before starting Anabel Divided.

To say that Anabel and Jared have a complicated relationship is putting it mildly. Jared is in love with Anabel but is dating someone else because Anabel is dating Matt. Anabel loves Matt but can't deny that she still has feelings for Jared. Matt loves Anabel but wants more commitment than she can give. He is also crazy jealous of the role that Jared will always have in their lives as the father of Anabel's daughter, Emma.

Amanda Romine Lynch writes incredibly flawed characters. Anabel is a hot mess through the entire book and she has incredibly poor decision making skills. As I said in my review of Anabel Unraveled, Anabel is not someone I would be friends with but at the same time I feel protective of her and want to guide her to a better path. Her actions and reactions may not be socially acceptable at times but they fit with her emotional backstory.

The book alternates between Anabel's perspective and Jared's, giving us two sides of the story. To me, Matt's perspective is important as well but we only see his actions through how they affect Anabel, Jared, and Emma. I want to learn more of Matt's history and hear his thoughts. I want to understand how he sees events and why he acts and reacts the way he does. Although Anabel chose Matt at the end of Anabel Unraveled, it feels that the series is skewed toward Jared.

If you enjoy emotional, character driven stories you should definitely check out the Anabel books. I'm eagerly awaiting the third book so I can find out what happens next.

Anabel Divided:

Anabel Martin thought that the resolution of her father's murder would bring a resolution to her problems. After all, she was starting life over in a new place, with new friends, and new adventures, focusing on attending college and raising her daughter free from the distractions of Washington, DC. She was ready to move on.

But a trip back to the District for Meghan's wedding stirs up old feelings and brings new life to old relationships. Matt is cold and distant, while Jared is caring and attentive. A woman from Matt's past, a bold public flirtation, and Anabel's desire to be truly loved lead her to a crossroads...and her final decision leaves her with more questions than answers.

Buy Anabel Divided on Amazon

Buy Anabel Unraveled on Amazon

About the Author:

Amanda Romine Lynch is a writer, editor, and blogger who grew up in Florida knowing she belonged somewhere else. She now lives in the DC Metro Area with her husband and three amazing little boys. She is the Eco-Friendly/Green Living Contributor over at the Prime Parents’ Club and strives to live earth friendly in a world of disposable diapers. When not writing about Anabel and Jared or chasing around a curly-haired boy, she cheers for the Gators (in all kinds of weather) and occasionally remembers to sleep.

Connect with Amanda Romine Lynch:

Website * Twitter * Facebook

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Blog Tour: Truth is Relative by J. J. Lyon

Lady Reader's Blog Tours presents another exciting week long tour! Just in time to read in front of the fire with a cup of cocoa or your favorite hot beverage, J. J. Lyon's fun private investigator mystery, with a twist, TRUTH is REALTIVE; the first in the A Truth Inducer Mystery series is here. A giveaway, great posts, reviews and best of all? Fun!

TRUTH IS RELATIVE 
By: J.J. Lyon 
Pages: 275 
Publisher: Gem Cache Publishing 
Genre: Who Dunit-Mystery PI - (Fiction/Mystery)

Anthony Blackwell’s “gift” compels people to confess their deepest secrets.

It corrupts his relationships, derails his career and drives him toward eviction—until he becomes Anthony Bishop, private investigator.

His first case drops him into a deadly family drama that will save him financially, if it doesn't kill him first.

Who can resist a great first line: "The Monday before Thanksgiving, my car disappeared... 

From the readers:

"I love the premise of this book, it's like PI Morrow meets Liar Liar."

“This book reminded me of the stone movies Tom Selleck was in. It has the rough feeling of the west but is written smoothly so that it's hard to stop reading. I'm hoping there is/will be more.” Stefanie Andersen - Logan, UT 

“A very interesting and innovative plot.” Billie H - Lamesa, TX

From the author:

The world didn't have enough mysteries with a sense of humor, so I wrote one. 

From other authors:

"What a fun, great read! I loved the characters and the concept was one I'd never heard of. Reading was an absolute pleasure."
--Rebecca Belliston, author of Sadie and Augustina 

"Even though Anthony’s "gift" makes him an effective detective, it is almost impossible for him to establish meaningful relationships. Anthony finds himself in situations fraught with danger, but tinged with humor. His charm and good looks draw people to him, but they quickly regret revealing their darkest secrets. I found myself laughing out loud and reading to find out what happens next. It’s easy to get caught up in the fresh and intriguing story. Lyon has so much imagination and skillful writing, I look forward to reading whatever she comes up with next."  

--Carole Warburton, author of A Question of Trust and Poaching Daisies 

Amazon | Goodreads 

Chapter One – Truth is Relativeby J. J. Lyon

The Monday before Thanksgiving, my car disappeared. Or it might have been late Sunday night. The day was half over before I even looked outside. Instead I focused on an ugly painting until I realized I was hungry. I was out of bread and low on groceries in general. I cleaned my brushes, grabbed my keys, opened the front door, and stared at gray asphalt where my Mazda used to be. A few dead cottonwood leaves swirled there before the wind swept them off.

I didn’t bother calling the police. My car hadn’t been stolen, it had been repossessed. 

My cell phone buzzed. It was my brother, Bart. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey, Bro. How’s life in the Big City?” Bart wasn’t being ironic. Compared to our hometown of Jersey, Cheyenne was enormous.

“It’s good!” I stepped back into Sam’s Café and tried to think of something else to say. Something that would back up my lie.

“Great. When are you coming for Thanksgiving?” Bart asked.

My brain scrambled, too busy to pay attention. I didn’t need a car. The abandoned café was a great studio, with north-facing windows and indirect natural light. My work happened right at home.

My work was also stacked against the walls, waiting for a gallery to accept it. The art that was already in a gallery had hung there for months. I needed a day job. A car would help.

“Tony? Hello?”

“Huh?”

“What about Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Whaddaya mean? I thought you were your own boss.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty …” I glanced out at the empty parking place. “It’s hard to get away right now.”

Bart was quiet, and when he spoke again he sounded unusually hesitant. “So how are you really?”

“Fine. I’m doing great.”

“Yeah, okay. You know what you need? A night out.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I can tell you’re depressed.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“C’mon, Tony. Think of everything we could learn about the beautiful women of Cheyenne.” Bart could afford to be fascinated by my new ability. He didn’t have to live with it.

“I’ve got to go get some groceries,” I said.

“Fine.” Bart sounded annoyed, but he didn’t argue. “Fine, I’ll talk to you later.”

I turned away from the café window and walked to my bedroom, which was actually a converted storage area in the back of the café. A walk-in cooler had once taken up most of the space, but it had been ripped out and sold the last time the place went out of business. There was room for a twin bed and a battered dresser from Goodwill Industries. I pulled my wallet from the top drawer and retrieved my old bike from the back of the building.

It was a cold ride to the store. Cheyenne’s legendary wind pushed against my side and cut across my hands. I’d forgotten my gloves. I zipped my jacket all the way up, stuffed my hands in my pockets, and kept pedaling, glad I had at least one useful talent. God gave me excellent balance.

My mind whirled as fast as my bike wheels, tallying my other useful abilities. I was decent at hanging Sheetrock, and I could tape and texture as long as the customer didn’t mind it a little antique and heavy. As for roofs, I’d done it all—patch, replace, steel, asphalt. If I had a truck I could rent myself out as a handyman. I could work in blissful isolation most of the time.

A gust of wind broadsided me. I went down in slow motion, shifted my weight, scuffed on the pavement with my feet. In the end my shoulder hit the road before I could pull my hands out of my pockets. The car behind me screeched to a stop and a woman got out. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said. The front bike wheel spun uselessly. My arm hurt. I scrambled out from under the bike, trying to place the woman’s voice.

“Anthony?”

Recognition registered in my gut as much as my ears. I knew that voice. The last time I had heard it, its tone had been much angrier. “Hi, Heather,” I said.

“What are you doing out here in the cold on a bike? I heard you drove a hot Mazda.”

“Not today,” I said.

“I heard you got fired, too. Twice.”

Technically I only got fired once. The other time I quit before the ax fell.

Heather wasn’t in my fan club, but she wasn’t being rude, either. She was just under my influence. After thirty seconds in close proximity, people began confessing to me. I didn’t know why this began happening. For the first year or so, I didn’t realize it was happening at all. But as soon as my “gift” began manifesting itself, my life started rolling down a rocky slope.

“I almost drove by when you fell.” She brushed dirt from my sleeve. “I knew it was you and I don’t want to talk to you, but it looked bad.”

“It’s all right.” I stepped away from her brushing hand.

She didn’t leave. “Can I give you a ride? Please say no. I don’t want to be in a car alone with you, pretending I don’t remember how you—”

“No thanks.” I gripped the handlebars and pressed my weight on them a little. 

She nodded. “You wouldn’t accept help from me anyway. Bart, maybe, but not me.”

“I don’t need it. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

I rode the rest of the way to Safeway with my hands on the handlebars. My fingers numbed in the wind. The pain in my arm faded to a dull ache, and I shook off the encounter with my ex. In the store parking lot, the lights shone in the murky daylight. It was early afternoon, but the thick clouds fooled the light sensors into thinking it was dusk. I went inside the store and found some sandwich meat on sale and a package of rubbery cheese slices. I picked up some day-old wheat bread and waited in line behind a thin, fortyish man with a few days’ beard. He wore dirty jeans and a sweatshirt stained with what looked like motor oil. After thirty seconds, he turned to me.

“My wife left me this morning,” he said.

I nodded. If I didn’t acknowledge him, he would only repeat himself. Louder.

“She put her ring in my hand and said, ‘I’ve got to go to work.’ I said, ‘Can we talk about this?’ and she said, ‘It’s too late.’”

I nodded again.

“How can it be too late? Twelve years, and she can’t even talk about it? Isn’t twelve years worth a little discussion before you throw your husband in the garbage?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I know I didn’t pay attention before. I mean, when she was going around all mopey and resentful. I just figured she’d work it out. And sometimes she tried to tell me something and I’d change the subject, ’cause I could only hear that her life sucked so many times—”

“They’re ready to ring you up,” I said, nodding to the sales clerk.

The man stepped forward. I stepped back. So far, ten feet looked like the magic distance. More than that, and most people were out of the range of my gift. Less than that and I was in the confessor’s bubble.

“Are you in line?” a young mother asked behind me.

“Yeah. I’m just, uh …” I glanced at the man, who was now deep into an emotional conversation with the salesclerk. Apparently I wasn’t far enough away yet. I took another step back. “That guy needs a little space.”

The mother peered at him. “Is he crying?”

“I think so.”

She shrugged. “It figures. I get it all day from these two.” She nodded to her cart. A baby in the front clung to the push bar and gummed it with a slobbery mouth. A curly-haired toddler sat in the main basket, his fist buried in a box of cereal. “Maybe they never get over it. ‘I need this,’ ‘I want that.’”

I nodded.

“And then their dad comes home and he needs dinner and he wants sex. Everybody’s gotta have something.”

I took a step forward.

“Can’t anybody see that I’m tired? Look at me. I haven’t had a shower in three days, and I’m supposed to be a sex goddess?”

I glanced at her. She was frumpy. “Looks like it’s my turn.” I stepped up to the counter the crying man had just left.

She followed me, closing the space I had opened between us. “I mean, I’m doing good to be conscious at the end of the day.”

“Maybe you should tell this to your mom.” I hoped to deflect her. I didn’t want to hear any more—not today.

“She’s in Alabama,” the young mother said. “Everybody I know has a mom who acts like a built-in babysitter, but I’m stuck here alone in the cold.”

“Ten fifty-four,” the salesclerk said in front of me. I dug my wallet out of my jacket pocket and handed some bills to her.

“You have the most amazing blue eyes.” The clerk leaned forward. This might have been interesting, if she were not sixtyish, wrinkled, and stinking of cigarettes.

I held out my hand. “Can I have my change?” 

 J.J. Lyon is a wife, mom, public relations professional and recovering journalist.

Her passion for prose and love of the American West are so intertwined; she doesn’t think she can separate them. When J.J. runs out of words, she reaches for her camera, takes off on a back road and returns home with a bucketful of inspiration.

She lives in a mountain valley with her husband, three children, some cats, two goats, a bird and a basset hound. 

Facebook | Twitter | Website Goodreads

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September 29^th – October 3^rd

September 29^th ~ Cabin Goddess ~ Comfort Foods & Reads (Top Ten)

September 29^th ~ Jess resides here ~ Advice for Aspiring Writers (Guest Post)

September 29^th ~ Laura's Online Interests ~ Promo & Excerpt

September 30^th ~ Pinky's Favorite Reads ~ Review & an Interview

September 30^th ~ The Road to Nowhere ~ Promo & Excerpt

October 1^st ~ Rebecca Belliston ~ Review & Interview

October 1^st ~ Bookish ~ Review

October 1^st ~ Journeys & Life by Oregonmike ~ Top Ten

October 1^st ~ Mohadoha ~ Writer’s Wednesday

October 2^nd ~ A Book and a Cup of Coffee ~ Review

October 2^nd ~ Library Girl Reads ~ Promo & Excerpt

October 3^rd ~ Room With Books ~ Promo & Excerpt

October 3^rd ~ Njkinny's World of Books & Stuff ~ Review

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RJ Sullivan: "Profound" language and the storyteller's quandary

Haunting Blue is the story of a 17 year old punk girl who attends a small town high school. Prior to that, "Blue" hung out with college-age students for several years. As a result of her upbringing, she expresses herself with blunt, direct language. Like any other high school rebel, Blue is an angry person. She feels justified in that anger, picked upon, and she responds to the world aggressively--in words and deeds.

Although it has been quite a few years since I've walked the halls of my high school with anyone I could call my peers, I still remember the constant ambiance of four-letter words. Even if you did not use such words yourself, you couldn't avoid hearing a variety of--to use Mr. Spock's vernacular--"colorful metaphors." As everything else in high school--from bullying to music to styles--has slanted toward the extreme, I've no doubt that this trend has gone the same direction.

So when drafting my novel, I let Blue to talk the way she would talk. This was not about shock value, or, as a common accusation goes, to try to be "cool" or trendy in order to sell books. This was about letting Blue behave as Blue, and saying exactly what's on her mind.

Still, there is another side, a certain reader who prefers not to read a book full of four-letter words, and to them, I always say, "this book is not for you." I hate having to say that, because any author who wants to have any hope of success does not turn down a sale on purpose if they can help it. But neither do I want to alienate a new reader by not disclosing this important part of the book.

And I get it. I'm a parent with children. My two oldest are not, in my own estimation..."quite" ... ready to read my books. But they will be, sooner than later. And that's okay. Yes, you are reading this right--my own children have not yet read my major novels. And if I were a potential customer on the other side of the booth, I would not buy the book for my kids. (Maybe for myself, but not my kids.)

Because I am a parent, I made a number of conscious choices in my marketing to make certain that anyone who considers buying Haunting Blue knows what they are getting. The first words on the back cover read "Punk, blue-haired 'Blue' Shaefer is at odds with her workahaulic mother." Immediately, the potential reader knows this isn't Snow White.

My novel, and my series, is filed under adult paranormal thrillers, and the front cover of Haunting Blue with the demonic blue eyes on the pirate is meant to give younger readers and their parents pause. As a product, my series is not filed under YA, even though the category is "hot" and the character is a high school girl.

The book trailer was created specially to drive this point home. I've been asked, frequently, why I have dialog in the trailer, and why do I have "bleeped out words" that censor the language. A book trailer is meant to give a potential buyer an idea about the book. Ideally, it draws the reader to want to find out what they can expect before they buy the book. Anyone who sees my trailer knows how Blue talks in that scene, and can presume (correctly) that the novel offers more of the same.

Still, all three of my novels get the occasional lower rated review by some reader who is put off by the language or the content.

To those readers, I offer three thoughts. First, the vulgarity and delinquent actions that Blue exhibits come from an honest place. Every word, every action, was a choice I made to be as true to the actions and words of the character as I believe she would behave. Rebecca Burton, my paranormal investigator professional, does not exhibit any of these traits. 2. I've come to accept that certain stories I write will not be for everyone. I have to target a specific demographic and seek out the reader of the stories that I want to tell. When the book ends up outside that demographic, that is my failure, not yours. To those put off by the content, I don't apologize for the content, but I do apologize that my marketing did not make the content clear. 3. That's not to say I don't have anything for a more general reader. My Red Lotus space opera ebooks are written with a more general audience in mind. Not because I was aiming for a different demographic, but because the truth of the story happens to make it more palatable to a wider audience.

Could I have rewritten my stories to lessen or eliminate the profanity? I suppose so. And many very good writers are able to do so. But I faced a choice many storytellers face, and I chose to hold a magnifying glass up to imperfect people and show them, warts and all. I think they're still likeable in spite of their flaws.

I understand the dilemma of a sensitive genre reader trying to make wise choices and find fiction that appeals to them. I don/'t hold those choices against them. Just consider that the storyteller faced their own dilemma, and simply made a choice that doesn't appeal to you. And that's okay.

Haunting Blue Book Synopsis: Punk, blue-haired “Blue” Shaefer, is at odds with her workaholic single mother. Raised as a city girl in a suburb of Indianapolis, Blue must abandon the life she knows when her unfeeling mother moves them to a dreadful small town. Blue befriends the only student willing to talk to her: computer nerd “Chip” Farren.

Chip knows the connection between the rickety pirate boat ride at the local amusement park and the missing money from an infamous bank heist the townspeople still talk about. When Blue helps him recover the treasure, they awaken a vengeful ghost who’ll stop at nothing--not even murder--to prevent them from exposing the truth behind his evil deeds.

Haunting Blue is Book One of the Adventures of Blue Shaefer

Purchase Haunting Blue from Amazon for Kindle or Paperback

About RJ Sullivan: Haunting Blue is the first book of the adventures of punk girl Fiona “Blue” Shaefer. This is the 2014 revised edition by Seventh Star Press. Seventh Star also released Haunting Obsession, a Rebecca Burton Novella, and Virtual Blue, the second book in Fiona’s tale. R.J.’s short stories have been featured in such acclaimed collections as Dark Faith: Invocations by Apex Books and Vampires Don’t Sparkle. His newest project is the Red Lotus series of science fiction novelettes.

R.J. resides in Heartland Crossing, Indiana. He drinks coffee from a Little Mermaid mug and is man enough to admit it. www.rjsullivanfiction.com

Connect with RJ: Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads

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Crosswind by Lynne Cantwell

Storm’s coming…

Life on Earth is much improved since the pagan gods' return. As conflict eases around the world, attention -- and money -- has turned to more humanitarian goals: improving the lives of the First Nations peoples and others who were repressed for thousands of years.

But the former ruling class – the military, religious, and corporate leaders who profited under the old system -- are about to stage a last-ditch effort to bring their good times back.

The gods refuse to start a new war against those men, because that would make them no better than Their opponents. Instead, They have drafted three humans to help Them. Together, Tess, Sue and Darrell must find a way past their own flaws to ensure the gods' peace will not be destroyed.

Genre - Urban Fantasy
Pages - approx 275 (68K words)

Buy Crosswind on Amazon

About the Author: Lynne Cantwell

Lynne Cantwell has been writing fiction since the second grade, when the kid who sat in front of her showed her a book he had written, and she thought, "I could do that." The result was Susie and the Talking Doll, a picture book, illustrated by the author, about a girl who owned a doll that not only could talk, but could carry on conversations. The book had dialogue but no paragraph breaks. Today, after a twenty-year career in broadcast journalism and a master's degree in fiction writing from Johns Hopkins University (or perhaps despite the master's degree), Lynne is still writing fantasy. In addition, she is a contributing author at Indies Unlimited.

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Finding Inspiration with Candy Ann Little

Finding Inspiration

Where does inspiration come from?

For some people it comes from within a secret place inside themselves. They can dig around like a junk yard, finding old scrapes of stories and memories to use. Their inspiration comes from the everyday life stories they've lived.

Others find their muse in the beauty of nature; noticing the sunset, or the wind dance through the trees, maybe even a watching bee flit from one bright colored flower to the next. It's the little unexpected things that cause happiness and make you want to share that joy with the world.

And, yet, others delve into the dark depths of depression. They see the world in different shades of light – not always bright and sunny. Although things look dark, gloomy and they feel alone, they manage to bring out a unique perspective on life. The gray clouds and rainy days can be just as interesting as the sunshine.

What about dreams? Is there useful inspiration found in slumber? When our bodies are at rest our minds have time to think. Sometimes we need to shut off the noise of life so our thoughts, fears and emotions can float to the forefront and we can truly examine what out heart wants. Our dreams help us reach for the stars, fight monsters, or answer the questions we don’t want to ask when awake.

The inspiration for my books has come from different sources. I have written from personal experiences of happiness and grief. I use everyday occurrences big or small. Sometimes I use my friends and family members stories or ideas. I call this repurposing!! I've gotten ideas from newspaper stories, internet or the T.V. Murder of an Oil Heiress is actually based on dream I had. But in all the details, I must remember that no matter where I got the inspiration from, every word I write comes from God!

Where does your inspiration come from?

Murder of An Oil Heiress

The Texas sun isn't the only thing that is scorching hot. Mallory Dillingham is beautiful, successful and primed to take over the family oil business when her father is ready to retire. However, that isn't soon enough for the billionaire heiress. She wants it all. And, she wants it now. Mallory will stop at nothing to get what she wants, including seduction, lying and blackmail.

Joseph Barnes has stepped into her slippery trap. Can he find a way out before his evil sister-in-law destroys his marriage to Sarah? Will the Dillingham family be able to survive the destruction caused by her devious plot?

Love, betrayal, forgiveness and the bonds of family are all intertwined. This story deals with the complicated lives of the Dillingham family and the people caught in the crossfire. As Mallory wages war on everyone, innocent people pay the price.

Buy from Amazon

Candy Ann Little

Candy Ann Little grew up in a small town in Ohio. She now resides in Michigan with her husband, two adult kids and 4 cats. She began writing in the aftermath of tragedy – her third child was stillborn. The nurse suggested keeping a journal to cope with the grief. Although she thought it a dumb idea at the time, she soon found a freedom and healing that only writing brought.

Eventually that pain and sorrow turned into her first Inspirational romance, Unforgiving Ghosts. Since then she has finished 2 more inspirational romances. Her historical romance The Unwilling Bride was published in 2011. She has also tried writing in the genre of mystery, including a novella, Death By Broken Heart, and her first full length novel, Murder of an Oil Heiress. Candy Ann finds it therapeutic putting her thoughts into the words and action of her characters. She also finds that discipline is the biggest lesson learned in her writing life.

When she isn’t busy writing, you can find her subbing in the public schools, or helping with church activities. Her favorite things to do are reading, cooking, baking and doing crafts.

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