Sunday, June 26, 2016

New Releases Free & Bargain Books

Check the out here:

Story Land Promo Code #StoryLandNH #MyStoryLandAdventure

We are going to Story Land for vacation this year! Yay! The kids are getting bigger and we are all very excited to see Cinderella and Pinocchio. It has been a hectic year for me and I can not wait to get in some swimming and relaxing. This is a picture from the kiddos last year

I can not wait to share the pictures with you when we get back!
To check out the Story Land go HERE !
Also don't forget to use promo code DealSharingAuntBlog16

My sister, Brother in law, niece and nephew

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Vacation Plans Story Land and Attitash Mountain Resort

We are going to Story Land for vacation this year! Yay! The kids are getting bigger and we are a;; very excited to see Cinderella and Pinocchio. It has been a hetic year for me and I can not wait to get in some swimming and relaxing. This is a picture from the kiddos last year

Last few times we went to Story Land, we stayed at Attitash Mountain Village. I loved staying here and I really want to go back just to vacation at a home away from home. Here are a few pictures from Attitash

I can definitely see myself reading a great summer read poolside. Or maybe in the spa..... 
Last time my mom (3 Partners in Shopping's Nana) got sick and the accommodations were truly over kind. We were able to get our room early and stay the time we needed, before she had to drive hours home. 
I can not wait to share the pictures with you when we get back!
To check out the Story Land go HERE !
To check out Attitash Mountain Village go HERE!

My sister, Brother in law, niece and nephew

This Madness of the Heart by Blair Yeatts FREE BOOK, Interview, Excerpt & Giveaway

This Madness of the Heart
by Blair Yeatts


GENRE: gothic mystery/thriller



Bad religion can be deadly. So Miranda Lamden, small-town religion professor, discovers in This Madness of the Heart. The dark hollers of Eastern Kentucky offer fertile soil for shady evangelist Jasper Jarboe, new president of Grace and Glory Bible College, as he beguiles the small mining town of Canaan Wells with his snake-oil charm.

When Miranda isn’t teaching at Obadiah Durham College, she’s investigating paranormal phenomena—or enjoying a turbulent romantic relationship with backwoods artist Jack Crispen. JJ’s inquisition-style gospel has alienated her long since, but when he announces his plan to transform her forest home into an evangelical Mecca, complete with neon cross and 40-foot Jesus, Miranda girds her loins for war. But JJ isn’t finished: he goes on to launch an attack on her friend and fellow professor Djinn Baude with an avalanche of vicious rumors. Not only does he accuse Djinn of demonic communion with the old Voudon witch whose curse killed the college’s founding family, but he also smears her with insinuations of lechery and vice.

With JJ’s urging, hate boils over into violence and tragedy, sweeping Miranda up in its flood. One death follows another as a miasma of evil overwhelms the tiny community, and only Miranda can see clearly enough to halt its spread.

This Madness of the Heart is the first in a new series of Gothic mystery-thrillers featuring Professor Miranda Lamden, whose spiritual gifts have drawn her beyond university walls to explore the mysteries of other world beliefs. Her unique vision brings her into repeated confrontations with evil, where too often she finds herself standing alone between oblivious onlookers and impending disaster.


Excerpt One:
The large woman beside me slid to the plank floor with surprising grace, twitching and jerking on her back, eyes glittering sightlessly under half-closed lids. Worshippers stepped around her with hardly a thought. Her lips fluttered in prayer, inaudible amidst the tumbling chaos of sound rolling through the tiny church.

“Hallelujer! Hallelujer! Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Jesus! Praise-a the Lord!

Oooooooohhh, glory be to God, honey! Praise-a his holy name!” The preacher’s voice roared over the babble.

I rocked contentedly in the midst of a storm of joy. Ecstasy beat against me like a rising spring tide. I loved my work. No matter how many hours I spent observing people celebrating their faith, their joy always lifted me up—perhaps bearing me on the wings of their prayers. And Appalachian Holiness congregations had to be among my favorites. I loved their lack of pretense, their tolerance of diversity, their unselfconscious enthusiasm. I envied how easily they gave themselves up to spiritual ecstasy. Comparatively, I was a clam, tightly sealed in a riotous bed of wave-swept anemones.

Several white-shirted men carried cardboard boxes into the center of the floor while the worshippers danced close around. One by one, two by two, three by three, coiling copperheads, cottonmouths, and rattlesnakes were scooped from the boxes and passed from dancer to dancer, man or woman, whoever held out a willing hand.

Panic knocked the breath from my body like an adder’s sudden strike. My gut clenched, writhing with the coiling snakes. Tremors shook my hands. Shadow threatened to overwhelm my sight. I’d forgotten myself, relaxed my guard, let slip the rigorous discipline I wore like a second skin in my field studies.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Blair Yeatts grew up in the midst of a large, old southern Virginia family, much like the family of her main character. She followed her parents into a career in academia and taught religion at the college level in Kentucky for many years. Her special areas of expertise are psychology and Earth-based religions, in which she has done considerable research.

From childhood, Ms. Yeatts has been a fan of mystery fiction, starting with Nancy Drew and moving through Agatha Christie to twentieth century giants like Dorothy L. Sayers, P.D. James, and Nevada Barr. She is fulfilling a life’s dream in writing her own mysteries.

Ms. Yeatts shares her home with her photographer husband, two cats, and a dog. She has a lifelong love of wild nature, and prefers to set her stories in rural areas, where threads of old spiritual realities still make themselves felt. Her first three books take place in different parts of Kentucky and Tennessee.


Where are you from?
I was born and bred in Kentucky, which is where the Miranda Lamden Mysteries are based. Some people manage to grow up in Kentucky without seeing themselves as Southerners, but my parents (who were from southern Virginia) worked hard at making sure I knew where my roots lay. Years of moving around have chipped away the Southern veneer, but some of the great necessities still lurk in the shadows: like cooking vegetables with bacon drippings . . . and sprinkling fresh tomatoes with sugar.

Tell us your latest news?
I’m in the midst of editing the second book in the Miranda Lamden series, Blood on Holy Ground, and hoping to release it before Christmas. As a self-published author, I do all the editing and illustrating myself, so it’s a hectic time. It’s so hard getting enough distance from my own work to do the edits well! I’ve settled on reading the whole book aloud as the best way to do the final edits. Reading aloud is incredibly time consuming, but I find that my mind doesn’t wander, and there’s something about actually hearing the words in my ears and not just in my mind. The cover is almost done, too. I use my own photos for the covers, manipulated and layered in Photoshop over many, many hours.

When and why did you begin writing?
Every stop on the blog tour seems to have a variation on this question, so I’ll try a different tack with this answer. I’ve been writing ever since early childhood, but I remember one period in my early and middle teens when I wrote really seriously for months on end. My family had moved away from the South (that didn’t last long), and I was feeling lonely and displaced. I remember a kind of fantasy serial starting in my imagination, with heroines, villains, and romantic heroes, caught up in suspense, desperate love, violence, and high drama. Definitely what came to be known as romance literature! Every night I’d lie in my bed and live the next chapter, and sometime during the next day I’d type it out. I have no idea what happened to all those reams of purple prose! Maybe my mother discovered them and threw them out. Probably I turned some adolescent corner and suddenly found them excruciatingly embarrassing. Anyway, they were lost to my future readers.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?
If I don’t count my dissertation, then the first book I wrote was an autobiography—which I am grateful to say I never managed to publish. I tried the traditional publishing route, and no one even looked at it. But I had poured heart and soul into that book, and something in the process of writing it had touched me in a way I’d never felt before. I couldn’t bear the thought that I wasn’t a writer. I remember being convinced that if I didn’t get that book published, I’d never write again. I ended up going out into the hills and stomping around the forest for a whole day (poison ivy and all), railing at the universe for the unfairness of it all. I even demanded a sign one way or another! Well, the odd thing was, I got that sign. Right at the last possible point I had specified as the end of my sign-search, I found a beautiful and perfect spearhead lying in full view on a small sandbar in a creek. I accepted it with amazement, and took it as a promise—which eventually came true, although not with that book. I have published books, and I am a writer.

What inspired you to write your first book?
(I’m not counting Madness here, although it was actually my first completed book after the autobiography, since I set it aside for several years after writing it.) Stress and tragedy were my motivators, I think. There were sudden deaths in my family, and financial catastrophes as well, and suddenly, in the midst of it there was a voice rising in my mind, demanding to be heard, insisting that I make sense of my life with words. So I started to write . . . and write and write, a novel I never knew I had in me.

What would you like my readers to know?
This is where I need to explain that “Blair Yeatts” is a pen name. That first novel and two others (with a fourth in process) were written under my birth name. But they were written in entirely different genres, and it seemed good to me not to confuse my readers by jumping into mystery-thrillers. So Blair Yeatts was born. Everything I have said about her is true of my own life, but the details are often a bit vague. I hope you’ll enjoy my excursion into mystery!

Buy Links:

This Madness of the Heart e-book will be free during the 


(CreateSpace will be up on May 1)

Author/Book Links


Twitter:  @blair-yeatts



Blair Yeatts will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Student Bodies by Susan Israel Book Review

Student Bodies

by Susan Israel

on Tour June 1-30, 2016


Student Bodies by Susan IsraelDelilah Price is still dealing with the consequences of her recent abduction, but she needs to keep her life on track. In order to survive as an artist in New York City, she has started working as a substitute teacher, which leaves her navigating between two worlds that are foreign to her – students and educators.
Detective Patrick Quick has taken up a big place in Delilah's life. That is, when he isn't consumed by a case. And right now the case that is taking Quick away from Delilah involves a serial rapist and is striking very close to home.
On her way to her first day of work, Delilah witnesses a young girl falling in front of a subway train – or was she pushed? The victim turns out to have been a student at the middle school where Delilah has been assigned to teach and the teacher she is subbing for is a missing person herself. As Delilah gets to know her students and befriends a teacher on staff, she realizes that many have been hiding dark secrets that suggest abuse and worse. And when yet another girl who has hinted strongly that she was abused is a no show to class, Delilah stops counting on police help and follows leads on her own. Putting a dangerous predator on her trail.
The dramatic follow-up to Susan Israel's debut suspense novel, Over My Live Body, Student Bodies is a novel rippling with tension and twists.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery Published by: The Story Plant Publication Date: May 31, 2016 Number of Pages: 230 ISBN: 9781611882278 Series: Connected to Over My Live Body by Susan Israel Purchase Links: Amazon Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

There never seems to be a train lighting up the tunnel when you need one in a hurry, but today one is there and the doors close just as the red message at the turnstile commands me to swipe my MetroCard through again. And again. Damn! I drop my MetroCard and get shoved by someone behind me. I turn around to give whoever it is a dirty look and see a dark-haired young girl wearing a pleated white dress. Late for her confirmation or something like that, I’m thinking. How long is that dress going to stay pristine down here? She looks dazed. I pick up my MetroCard and get through the turnstile on the next swipe, then step out of her way. She swipes hers, too, her hand shaking.
I head for the public phone to my right to call the school I’m supposed to be at to say I’m running a little late. Nobody answers. I’ll apologize profusely when I get there. When I turn back toward the platform, the girl is on her knees, her head bowed. She must really be late if it’s come to this. I’ve never seen anyone kneeling on a subway platform before. She closes her eyes. Commuters make a part around her. A street person starts singing “The Greatest Love Of All” in front of the newsstand, palm extended, asking for handouts. Commuters make a part around him too. They’re just obstacles, like the red, white and blue poles along the length of the platform. I turn back to look at the girl. Behind me I get a whiff of cheap cologne. The same cologne I smelled in Sachi’s bedroom. I whirl around. Anyone here could be wearing that cologne. And a lot of it too. I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t know who I’m looking for. Who here would be Sachi’s type? Do I know Sachi’s type?
I go over to the newsstand to get a bag of M & Ms, sniffling so much from the cologne that the news-vendor gestures to a pile of pocket tissues. “You got a cold? You want these too, miss?” I shake my head. My feet sense the vibration of the approaching train first and I start dropping change in my hurry to pay the vendor before I miss this train too. A scream punctuates the approach of the train. Trains don’t make noise like this. I whirl around and see a man with his hands extended in front of him. I can’t tell if he’s been grabbing at something or pushing something. The girl in the white dress literally flies in front of the train as it hisses to a stop. I cover my eyes for a split second and then force myself to look around me. A crowd forms around where the girl was kneeling just moments ago. More people scream. A couple of people lean over the platform and gag. I turn away again. I don’t want to believe what I think just happened actually happened.
“She jumped.”
“She was trying to get away from that person who grabbed her elbow.”
“It looked to me like he was trying to keep her from jumping.”
“It looked to me like he pushed her toward it.”
“Well, she’s gone anyway.”
“Call nine-one-one, someone, hurry!”
All of these accounts turn out to be soliloquies because nobody’s here to question these people, not yet. I take several deep breaths. I’ve lost the urge to sneeze. Whoever was wearing that cologne is gone. I take a good look at the faces on the platform. Quite a few of them have a distinct greenish tinge, blending well with the mosaics of beavers on the subway wall. I imagine mine must look that way too. I hear the squawk of police radios on the stairway. Suddenly blue uniforms swarm the platform and start buzzing orders. “Okay, everybody, stay back, give the EMS guys a chance to get through.”
“She’s beyond EMS,” one onlooker says.
“You a doctor, sir?”
“Uh, no…”
“Well then, stand back with everyone else and let someone qualified make that determination.”
A few people back up toward the turnstiles. Another officer stops them. “No one’s going nowhere just yet. We got a report this girl was pushed.”
“She wasn’t pushed. Looked to me like she was trying to get away from somebody and lost her footing.”
“That ain’t all she lost.”
“People, I’m going to have to ask you to stay over there by the newsstand out of our way till somebody asks you some questions about what happened here.”
A man standing next to me clears his throat. “I didn’t see anything, can I go?”
“No one’s going nowhere,” the officer snaps.
“Candy, gum, magazines,” the newsstand vendor chants in a heavily accented voice. “Get something to pass the time.”
“We want to talk to you too,” the officer says to the vendor.
I can’t see beyond the wall of blue lined up along the platform. I realize I still have the bag of M & Ms clutched in my hand. I’ve lost my craving for them and it’s so hot on the platform that I’m sure they’ll have melted before I leave. I look around for a trash can to throw them in and see more scuffed shoes descending the stairs. Then I see someone that makes my hand squish the life out of that bag of M & Ms altogether.
“Delilah,” Quick says as he starts toward me. “Did you see anything?” I have a distinct feeling just from the tone of his voice that he would rather I didn’t see anything.
It may be more a question of what I smelled. I shake my head. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if what I noticed would be very helpful.”
“Try me,” he says. Under other circumstances there is nothing I’d rather do. “Wait here. I’ll want to talk to you at the station.”
“I have to wait here?”
He nods. “Afraid so.” He mumbles a few asides to a uniformed cop to his right and then turns back to me. “I can’t say how long we’ll be. We’ve got to talk to a lot of witnesses.” He looks around. “As you can see. We want to talk to anyone who’s handicapped and elderly first, so they can go. We don’t want anyone having heat stroke down here.”
Another detective saunters up to him. “Girl did an Anna Karenina, from what I understand.”
Where did he come up with that? I wonder if an all points bulletin is going to be posted for someone named Vronsky. The uniforms start beckoning potential witnesses away from the platform, toward the benches against the wall and through the turnstiles. A detective sidles up to the newsstand behind me. A baby begins to wail loudly. “I got to nurse,” his mother protests, pulling at one of the policeman’s sleeve with her free hand.
He whirls around. “Hey, don’t do that.”
“I got to nurse. My baby hungry.”
“Sit over there,” he points to the row of benches behind me, next to the newsstand.
I look over at the pay phone, thinking I better call the school to say I’m not going to be able to make it, period, that they’re going to need a substitute for this substitute, and probably call Heidi Obermeyer, too, to tell her to get another model, but the line is longer than the line to cash checks in banks the first of the month. I hate doing a no-show but expect everybody will understand. At least I hope they will. The girl on the tracks is never going to show up for anything again. I’m beginning to smell vomit. I don’t know how long it takes for a dead body to start to smell and I don’t want to find out. I look over at Quick who’s deep in conversation with yet another witness. How can he stand this, dealing with death all the time? I start to walk farther down the platform, as far away from the mayhem as I can, until I can’t go any further.
“Miss, where you going?” someone calls out. I ignore him.
Then, “Delilah!”
I reel around. Quick waves me back and points to the congregation of witnesses clustered around the newsstand. “I need air,” I whisper to him, clutching my stomach. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
“Okay, hold on, I’ll get someone to escort you.” I wish I could hold on to him, witnesses be damned. “I want to talk to you at the house, not here. I’ll be there as soon as I’m finished up here.” He keeps watch on me as he takes a uniformed officer aside and then says something to him I can’t hear and gestures for me to go with him. I’d gladly follow someone into a cell as long as it meant getting away from this. But I’d rather it be Quick.

Author Bio:

Susan IsraelSusan Israel lives in Connecticut with her beloved dog, but New York City lives in her heart and mind. Her first novel, OVER MY LIVE BODY, was published by The Story Plant in 2014. A graduate of Yale College, her fiction has been published in Other Voices, Hawaii Review and Vignette, and she has written for magazines, websites and newspapers, including Glamour, Girls Life, Ladies Home Journal and The Washington Post. She’s currently at work on the third book in the Delilah Price series.

Catch Up: Susan Israel's twitter Susan Israel's facebook



Tour Participants:

Don't Miss Your Chance to Win :

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours for Susan Israel and The Story Plant. There will be 3 US winners. There will be THREE (3) winners for this tour. Each winner will receive one copy of Student Bodies by Susan Israel. US Residents may have their choice of eBook or Physical and worldwide winners will receive an eBook copy. The giveaway begins on June 1st and runs through June 30th, 2016.
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My review;

"Student Bodies" by Susan Israel is the kind of book that you should not read alone. It is full of suspense and mystery. Delilah Price has just seen a young girl fall front of a train on her way to her first day of work as a substitute teacher. Why and how did this happen? Was it murder or an horrible accident? Delilah gets to work and finds out that the girl went to the school where she is starting to teach as a substitute. As days go by Delilah is getting more and more concerned. There seems to be a huge problem at the school but everyone is too secretive. Just as it seems it cannot get any worse she puts herself in harms way. She has to stop trying to find out what is really going on. But can she? Is it too late. Is the killer after her or someone else? Will she figure it out in time?  I give this book a 4/5. I was given this book for a review and these are my opinions.