Tuesday, November 29, 2016

International Giveaway and Spotlight of Secondhand Smoke by M. Louis

I am pleased to feature M. Louis on Silver's Reviews today as we take a look at his book, Secondhand Smoke.

ENJOY your visit with  M. Louis and the excerpt from his book.
All Information Below Is Courtesy of Mindbuck Media Book Publicity and Rebecca Kelley.

Set on the espresso-stained streets of Portland, a simple missing person case is just the beginning of a trail of danger and intrigue that leads to crooked cops, drug dealers, and a love affair on the run.

Running for his life wasn’t exactly what Portland PI, Jake Brand, had in mind when he accepted his latest client—but that’s exactly what he and Sarah, his best friend and assistant, find themselves doing in this heart-pounding sequel to ANGEL’S DEVIL

Deception, fueled by money, begins when a beautiful woman throws down serious cash for Jake to find her missing boyfriend. Violence follows when Jake and Sarah discover the couple is connected to a hacker who colors outside the lines, a beautiful pharmaceutical sales rep, a slimy cop who can’t take a punch, and a federal agent bent on hiding the truth. They all know too much—and soon enough, so do Jake and Sarah. 

In the midst of the danger, Jake finds time to annoy his yoga instructorand fall for the woman with more secrets than answers.

“Jake Brand is an easy hero to root for in this intriguing and entertaining thriller.” —Clarion

“...endlessly entertaining in any situation, especially the perilous kind.”  — Kirkus 

“SECONDHAND SMOKE is intriguing and entertaining, with enough narrative tension and action to keep the pages turning.”
— Jeannine Chartier Hanscom, Foreward Reviews


M. Louis’s writing career began with a tweet. Convinced he could gain more Twitter followers for his successful public accounting firm by using fiction, he began to tweet what would become his first crime-thriller series. Within months, a few ideas for tweets blossomed into a full-fledged, action-packed crime-thriller series including ANGEL’S DEVIL and SECONDHAND SMOKE. He has plans to release the third book next year.

A native Oregonian, M. Louis is currently a resident of Lake Oswego, a suburb of Portland. He’s married, has three children and one grand-dog.

Connect with M. Louis:
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An Audible Excerpt from Secondhand Smoke:


November 29-December 5


Thursday, November 24, 2016

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Wishing you and your family a wonderful Thanksgiving with lots of love, food, and books to share.  :)


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Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Spotlight on Holly Brown and her e-novella: Stay Gone

I am pleased to feature Holly Brown on Silver's Reviews today as we take a look at her e-novella, STAY GONE.

If you have read other books by Holly Brown, you know you will be in for a good read.

ENJOY your visit with Holly and the excerpt from STAY GONE!! 

All Information Below Is Courtesy of the publisher and Julie Paulauski of Harper Collins.


Growing up, Rae played the good girl, hoping to win her mother Marlene’s love. But Marlene favored Rae’s dangerous older brother Thomas, even after he nearly got teenage Rae killed. 

The night Thomas disappeared was the best night of Rae’s life. Now 28 years old and engaged, Rae is nursing Marlene, who has advanced cancer and one last request: for Rae to find Thomas and bring him home. 

Thomas purports to be a changed man, the CEO of his own meteorically successful company. But Rae knows he’s hiding something. 

When Marlene takes a turn for the worse, is it assisted suicide or murder? The answer goes back decades, through secrets and pain, and comes back full circle. 

Rae has to figure out who she can really trust. Or else.



Holly Brown lives with her husband and daughter in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she’s a practicing marriage and family therapist. Her blog, “Bonding Time”, is featured on Psychcentral.com, a mental health website with 1.5 million visitors per month.
Connect with Holly Brown:




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B&N Nook:  

Google Play:



Excerpt from STAY GONE:


Right Now

    My mother is dead.

The worsening of her illness was inexorable, and this ending inevitable. Hospice workers have been coming to the house for weeks—palliative measures only, the relief of suffering without treatment, comfort without cure. They were very clear on this point. There should have been no room for denial.

    But somehow, when it’s your mother, you deny until the end. 

It’s not like a dance recital, and you can practice, practice, practice. There is no preparation, not really. I’ve never lived in a world without her. Marlene Joy Kalatchik. Mom. Mommy.  

No one else has ever leveled me with a look like she could; no one else could affirm or destroy like my mother. She was the repository for all my insecurities. She fed them, unknowingly. I like to think unknowingly. Simon says otherwise, but he first met her a year ago, and given the cancer, she wasn’t herself. Not exactly.
    My mother is dead.

    I say it out loud, experimentally, full of wonder as much as pain. Impossible. I whisper it. I touch my tongue to it, like it’s a loose tooth.

    Simon is beside me, and he’s got his arm around me, he’s murmuring something, but I can’t seem to hear it. I can’t feel him. There’s nothing but her, nothing but absence and loss and something else, just out of sight, just beyond my reach.

    Natural causes. I think that’s what the coroner will say, even if it was by her own hand. A hand that was coerced by someone else, or a hand that’s an extension of hers, because isn’t that what family is? An extension. A proxy. A way to go on.

    Thomas is staring down at her, too, his expression inscrutable. No, it’s not her. Already, it’s her body.
He shouldn’t be here. Why didn’t he just stay gone? 

I wish I’d said no, I won’t find him, let the past be the past, it’s just us now, Mom, and that’s enough. I should have tried harder to convince her that I’m enough, though that had already been a lifelong project, a study in futility and false hope. I’ve been flexing my denial muscle for a long time. And yet…

I think I see Thomas and Simon exchange some sort of look. I’ve seen that look before. There’s mischief in it. No, mirth. No, it’s the satisfaction of collusion. Like they’re in it together.

No. Simon’s here for me, and Thomas is here for himself, just like always. Simon’s mine.

And if I’m wrong about that? Then what do I have?

My mother is dead. 

    My mother’s body is dead. Her spirit? Does that continue?

    It must. Because suddenly, I feel it here. I feel her, like radiant heat whooshing up from the floorboards, filling the room. She’s always been larger than life, in my eyes. Illness couldn’t shrink her. Maybe death can’t, either.

    We were closer in those last days. She told me something I’d waited my whole life to hear, and now: She has a message for me. There are things I’ve never known, and I need to. I’ve always sensed them, the secrets, like movement in my peripheral vision. I could never turn my head quickly enough.

    But she wants me to know now. It’s time.

    I lean in close, and listen.